


Within My Heart There Is Another Heart

by pirateygoodness, thrace



Series: Within My Heart There Is Another Heart [2]
Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-29
Updated: 2010-04-29
Packaged: 2018-09-15 18:53:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9251258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirateygoodness/pseuds/pirateygoodness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thrace/pseuds/thrace
Summary: In which Cara and Kahlan learn some very important lessons about the sort of activity that can leave a confessor with child. Some other things happen after that.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from Livejournal.

Being with child is hard. Harder still is being alone, her body stretching and changing every day. Kahlan is in Aydindril and Cara is at the People's Palace, and there is nothing to be done. They've written each other letters--Kahlan tries not to pressure Cara, simply says that, even though she is among friends, she sometimes feels lonely. Cara's responses are brief and businesslike, usually detailing more what Richard has done recently and the many ways she is sure he is going to screw up everything. 

They were together once. Once was apparently all it took, especially when powerful magic was involved, and after two months, Kahlan noticed that something was off. She waited as long as she could to be sure, but when her corset starting pinching, she went to Cara and asked if she remembered the night they were together: stuck in that cave, when it was raining and they were wet and cold and unable to keep their hands off of each other. And of course Cara remembered, even if they hadn't spoken of it since. She tilted her head at Kahlan, frowning, holding herself stiffly. 

Kahlan tugged Cara to a fallen log so they could sit down. Cara's spine was ramrod straight and she kept a conspicuous distance from Kahlan, who tried to close the space between them. Faced with retreating until she fell off the log and holding her ground, Cara nearly quivered on the spot from the tension. Kahlan's hand hovered close to Cara's knee. "I think I'm with child," she said. 

She could have laughed at Cara's consternation, except it was followed by such panic that she thought Cara might run or vomit or both. She finally touched Cara, holding her hand tightly as she tried to convey that she was scared too, that they were in this together. They both knew she hadn't been with anyone else, one of the benefits and drawbacks of traveling in such close quarters. 

Cara opened her mouth several times, and when she finally spoke, she said, "We can't tell Richard." 

Kahlan surprised herself by agreeing. She knew that the longer they hid this, the more it would hurt when it came out. She knew pretending it was for Richard's own good was selfish. And she knew that Cara was terrified of upsetting whatever balance she had managed to achieve since joining Richard's quest, so she kept her silence for nearly a month, her unease growing with every kind smile from Richard, every brushing touch from Cara. 

Cara was hard to read during those long days, running hot and cold, so obviously struggling with herself that Kahlan wondered at Richard and Zedd's not noticing. She might bring Kahlan tea in the morning; or she might disappear for hours on her own, coming back with a brace of coneys, then leaving just as quickly for a bath in the nearest lake or pond. She hovered close to Kahlan's bedroll at night during her watch, but would not look her in the eye over meals. Richard accidentally nicked her arm while sparring, and she retaliated with a harsh blow to his face, leaving a bruise on his cheek. He stared at her in shock and she stalked off, only to slink back to camp at sunset with a muttered apology and a quail for dinner. 

The day came when they had to tell Richard--when Kahlan's dress wouldn't fit anymore and her stomach had begun its gentle swell. It was shocking they had managed to hide it this long, especially during the harrowing month when Kahlan was sick two mornings out of three. Kahlan told him with Cara lurking behind her; she wished she could reach out and find Cara's hand, but contact with her was still elusive. 

He took it as well as could be expected; he and Cara were gone from camp for several hours and when they returned, they both looked worn out and Richard's voice was scratched down to a whisper. But afterwards they spoke freely instead of muttering to each other in hushed tones, and Richard was openly excited about the prospect of a child, no matter its lineage. 

By then they were a handful of leagues from the People's Palace, where Richard would try to smooth over the transition from Darken Rahl's rule to a more democratic system that perhaps involved fewer executions. Cara was to stay with him there while Zedd escorted Kahlan to Aydindril, before returning to D'Hara. 

"You should go with Kahlan," Richard said. 

"My place is with you," Cara said. 

Kahlan said nothing. 

* 

At the People's Palace, Richard entreated Cara one last time to go with Kahlan; he could manage on his own. She told him he had no idea of the intrigue that awaited him. He gave Kahlan an apologetic look-- _I tried_ \--and continued, the main gate to the palace looming close. 

"It'll be strange, not seeing you every day," said Kahlan. 

"Aydindril is no place for a Mord'Sith," said Cara. "You'll be better off without me there." 

Kahlan touched her hand, but did not hold it, knowing Cara would only pull away. "That's not true." 

Cara's eyes searched the ground ahead of her. "Richard will need me." 

Kahlan's voice was soft, but no less insistent for it. "I need you too." 

Cara paused and for a long moment, Kahlan thought she might give in. She could see it in the way Cara's hands flexed, in the swaying of her body. They had never been the same, since the cave, and perhaps Cara was ready to admit it. But she turned away from Kahlan, and followed Richard. 

Kahlan and Zedd stayed for a few nights to make sure Richard was situated, and then they took their leave. On her last night she found it impossible to sleep. Bad enough her quarters in the People's Palace still reeked of Darken Rahl's taste, but she was used to sleeping outdoors. Her bed was too soft, the air was too still. She missed the ambient sounds of a nearby fire, of birds rustling in the branches overhead--of Cara, making her slow, careful circuit of the camp. 

They'd hardly spoken to each other since arriving at the palace. Cara was constantly at Richard's side, looming over his shoulder in her unique way. Kahlan, too, was throwing her might behind Richard, promising his generals and advisors that Aydindril stood with the Seeker, schooling her face to stony resolve at all times. It was exhausting. 

And still she lay awake, until she heard a soft tapping at her door. She pulled a dagger from beneath her pillow and approached the door cautiously, waiting until she was next to the hinge to respond. "Who is it?" she asked. 

"It's me," said Cara, and Kahlan unlatched the door. 

Cara stood in the hallway, hands clasped in front of her stomach. Wordlessly, Kahlan let her enter, and Cara stole into the room. Kahlan latched the door behind her, watched her come to a stop just shy of the bed and stand there, looking down at the floor. For once, Cara started the conversation. "I wanted to see you. Before you left," she said. She glanced over her shoulder. 

Kahlan felt her lip tremble and thought she might cry, though there was no reason why she should. "Is that all?" she asked. 

Cara turned to face her. "I can't leave Richard," she said roughly, something like an apology in the words. 

"Cara," said Kahlan, something awful and overwhelming rising in her chest, something that had been building steadily these long months. It made her want to plead with Cara one last time, but what she said instead was, "I understand." 

Cara let out a sharp breath and Kahlan went to her, embracing her tightly, nose pressed to Cara's hair. Kahlan loosened her dress' ties when Cara pulled back to kiss her, hard and fierce and desperate. They tumbled into the bed, Cara still fumbling with the latch of her belt, Kahlan tugging her leather down to bare her arms and breasts and stomach. Her skin was dusky in the moonlight and Kahlan fairly ached with wanting. It was all culminating in a rush--the stress of being in the palace, the months of tip-toeing around each other, the mingled joy and sadness that Cara had finally, finally come to her. 

They lay together, Kahlan with her shift rucked up about her waist, Cara gloriously nude and disdaining the sheets. Kahlan felt the approaching lassitude of sleep and let herself sink into the mattress, fully relaxed in way she had not been since entering the palace. When she turned over she found Cara there, watching her, drinking her in with her eyes like a woman who knows a long thirst awaits her. 

"You would be welcome at Aydindril," said Kahlan, trying one last time. 

"I need to make sure no one slips a knife into Richard's back," said Cara. Something in her gaze flickered, taking in Kahlan's stomach for a heartbeat. "I'll try. To be there when she comes." 

Kahlan stroked her cheek, pulled her down for a kiss, and they spoke no more.


	2. Chapter Two

One day, Kahlan receives a letter from Richard. He writes much more frequently than Cara and in much greater detail, often asking for her advice, amusing her with anecdotes from his attempts to democratize D'Hara. But this letter is almost entirely about Cara--she is terrorizing the palace staff, is moody most days and absolutely impossible the rest, is spending all her time shut in Darken Rahl's library. She wants to ask Zedd about this directly--he is in residence at Aydindril at the moment, having deemed it safe to leave Richard on his own for a few weeks--but he has made no mention of any of this before. Richard's letter continues: there have been no assassination attempts for nearly a month and some of the Mord'Sith have come around, pledging their fealty to Richard. His meaning is clear. Cara does not belong in D'Hara any more. He sends his love to the baby. 

Kahlan does not need to create an elaborate missive, filled to overflowing with everything she wants to say to Cara. She writes two words on a piece of parchment: _please come_. Using the much-improved courier network between Aydindril and the People's Palace, the round trip is just under two weeks. 

Cara arrives ten days later. She makes no announcement; Kahlan is in the middle of her morning judgments. She tells a supplicant to repay his neighbor twice over for being twice late, her herald calls for the next supplicant, and then Cara emerges from the crowd in the back of the hall. Everyone parts for her, recognizing her Mord'Sith leather if not her face, and she stands in front of Kahlan, back straight and features schooled to neutrality. 

"Mother Confessor," says Cara. 

Kahlan stands; the crowd begins to murmur. "You came," she says. 

Cara's chin lifts, though the line of her mouth softens, and her eyes are not so assured as her square shoulders. 

"Steward," says Kahlan, "Please escort Mistress Cara to my chambers. See that she's made comfortable." 

Cara follows the steward without a backwards glance and Kahlan continues her judgment. If Cara can spend a month at her duty, she can wait for Kahlan to spend a morning at hers. 

* 

It is midday when Kahlan retires to her chambers; the council oversees judgments in the afternoon. Servants have already laid out lunch for her. Roseline, the cook, is constantly sending her food, tutting that she must eat for the baby. Roseline would know, with her six children, the eldest of whom has just joined the city guard. She has also found Kahlan tearing up over a plate of fresh corn cake more than once and has coaxed most of story out of Kahlan in dribs and drabs. So it is that Kahlan finds her scowling at Cara in her chambers while Cara tries to politely ignore her. 

"Thank you, Roseline," she says. 

Roseline continues scowling, but curtseys and leaves Cara looking bemused. 

When they are alone, Kahlan simply stands on the other side of the table, looking at Cara, waiting for her to speak. Cara returns her gaze, steady and even, and Kahlan wants to damn her for it. She knows Cara must have ridden every one of her horses to exhaustion, must have traveled day and night, and now that she is here, she refuses to speak first. 

"I'm glad you came," says Kahlan, unable to do anything but resort to the truth. 

Cara's mouth twitches, the barest moue of movement, and then her chair scrapes as she stands up and Kahlan is holding her while she buries her nose in Kahlan's neck. 

Kahlan has time to catch the scent of travel on Cara--grass, sunshine, leather, and horses--before Cara is leading her towards her bedchamber. She closes and bolts the door, joins Kahlan at the bed, and kisses her neck, hands already reaching for the laces of Kahlan's dress. 

"Aren't you hungry?" Kahlan murmurs. 

"Yes," says Cara, and bites Kahlan where her shoulder curves down. 

It is almost overwhelming, the sensation of touching and tasting Cara after so long touching no one. Zedd occasionally pats her shoulder; a council member brushes her hand; but here in Aydindril the Mother Confessor is nearly sacrosanct. Her title carries a proscription against casual touch beyond the realities of being a confessor. Cara's touch is more than casual--it is a warm, slightly calloused hand pulling up her hem and sliding up her thigh, a soft mouth nipping at her earlobe, a firm stomach pressed to hers. Cara pushes her onto the mattress and they let the food go cold. 

 

* 

Later, Cara brings her lunch, everything on a tray so she can eat in bed. She knows she shouldn't; crumbs in the sheets are an indulgence for children. But she is sated and recumbent upon a little bulwark of pillows, and Cara seems intent on doting on her. Lying next to her, basking under the midday sun streaming through the open windows, it is easy to think of an idyllic life being brought breakfast in bed and raising their child in peace. There is a feeling of snug safety that she has been missing all these days in Aydindril, surrounded by guards and attendants and a wizard of the first of order. She wishes Richard had written sooner. 

Cara stares at her stomach while she munches hungrily on fresh bread baked with herbs. "How long?" she asks. 

Kahlan rubs her belly once. "Zedd says three months, but Roseline thinks it'll be closer to four. I'm inclined to trust Roseline's opinion first." 

"Four months," Cara says, almost to herself. She looks up at Kahlan's face. "Have you thought of a name?" 

Kahlan fiddles with a grape, rolling it between her fingers. She has known what she will name her daughter since childhood. "I want to call her Sonia. After my mother." 

Cara tests the name out loud. "Sonia." 

"Why, did you have something in mind?" Kahlan asks with a curious smile. It would be nice to know that Cara has thought about this as much as she has, that it occupies her waking moments and sends her to sleep, only to rouse her again while the moon is still full in the sky. 

Cara half shrugs and continues to eat. 

Kahlan almost asks if Cara never imagined what she would name her children, but she remembers what she has learned about the Mord'Sith. 

There's a knock on her door and Finch, her steward, speaks through it. "Mother Confessor," he says, his tone indicating he knows exactly what is behind the door. "Will you be needing anything else?" 

"No, thank you, Finch," says Kahlan, feeling her peace slipping away. She groans and lets her head fall back. "I have to meet with the council soon. There's an issue on farm levies they want to discuss." 

Cara makes a better-you-than-me face, continuing to eat, and watches as Kahlan rouses herself, reaching for her underthings. Her seamstress is forever letting out her dresses and Kahlan would not be a confessor if she could not admit that it has been disheartening, listening to the woman prattle on about her expanding measurements as week after week slips by. And here is Cara, following her with her eyes as though she has never seen a woman naked before. It is gratifying, in a petty way. Kahlan throws a look over her shoulder. "Are you going to stay in bed all day?" 

The smallest of smiles blooms on Cara's face. "Aren't you?" 

Kahlan tries to look stern, to gather the authority of the Mother Confessor around her, but Cara is in her bed, biting into a ripe strawberry. She calls for Finch and once again he speaks to her through the door. "Tell the council I'll have to speak with them tomorrow morning," she says. 

* 

It is the most indulgent, lush day Kahlan has ever experienced. She and Cara finish lunch slowly while Kahlan coaxes out details of Cara's time at the People's Palace. She wants to ask about Richard's letter, if Cara was really so miserable. But Cara is here, now, dozing off in Kahlan's bed, and such questions seem trivial. Kahlan feels like a nap herself after Roseline's thick vegetable stew with nut-studded cheese and fresh bread. At least the food in Aydindril has always been a comfort. 

When she next opens her eyes, the light is fading from her room and Cara has lit candles amongst the long shadows. Kahlan stretches, as always intimately aware of the play of muscles in her expanding stomach. Her daughter is quiescent for the time being, but she wants to show Cara how she kicks, how very alive she is, responding to Kahlan's moods and activities. 

Cara has dressed, not in her leather, but in a loose linen shirt she must have had Finch bring. She is not accustomed to seeing Cara in anything but deep red, and the simple white cloth makes Cara seem younger, smoothes out her sharper edges. She hears Kahlan shifting and comes to the side of the bed, sitting on the edge. One hand rests on Kahlan's belly. 

"Have you been awake long?" Kahlan asks. 

Cara shakes her head. "Not long." 

"What have you been doing?" 

"Reading some of Richard's letters." 

Kahlan gives Cara a light slap on the arm. "Those are private." 

"You shouldn't leave them out, then," says Cara, unrepentant. "And besides which, it's nothing I haven't seen with my own eyes." 

"Did you read the letters I sent to Richard?" Kahlan demands. 

"Of course not. Lord Rahl keeps his private correspondence in a safe place," says Cara, and this time Kahlan pinches her, the way she used to pinch Dennee when she would tease Kahlan over a boy. 

Cara doesn't even flinch. "Zedd came by. He reminds you that you're supposed to dine at Ambrosio's tonight." 

Kahlan runs a hand through her sleep-tousled hair. "Of course." She supposes they have to leave her room some time, and besides which, Cara has come to Aydindril to stay. There will be other days to lock themselves in and ignore the world. 

Cara helps her dress, dropping a kiss on her shoulder from behind before pulling up the laces in the back. Kahlan wonders at her sudden attentiveness, if absence truly made her heart fonder. She has never expected flowers and poetry from Cara; simply having her near is enough. But this Cara, who seems almost affectionate, is a pleasant surprise. Perhaps she, like so many before her, is mellowing with a child on the way. 

Ambrosio's is crowded as usual, but Zedd has worn a groove into the only chair he claims is comfortable at a back table. Janela, who inherited the tavern from the original Ambrosio, knows to keep the table open for him during the dinner rush. When Kahlan enters there is a momentary hush, then conversations resume. Janela bustles up, wiping her hands on her apron. "Mother Confessor," she says, with a small obeisance, "It's always a delight to see you." She glances at Cara, now in her proper leather, agiels at her side. "And your companion." 

"Good evening, Janela," says Kahlan. 

"And you're looking quite healthy, I might add," Janela says. 

Even halfway through her pregnancy, Kahlan still goes slightly shy under the compliment. "Thank you. Is Zedd here?" 

Janela points. "Of course. He's been here for half an hour already." 

Zedd has already ordered a whole roast duck, which he has not waited to start eating. He greets Kahlan enthusiastically and has a genuine smile for Cara. He has not watched Kahlan slip through the halls of the Confessor's Palace like a shade for nothing. The news of her arrival has spread across the city already, and there is gossip about how the Mother Confessor went pale as a ghost upon seeing her, how they had such a fight right there in front of the throne. There are even rumors that Cara has come to request the child be given to the Mord'Sith for training. 

Kahlan is aghast, but Cara nearly laughs out loud at hearing the latter. She eats well, drinks her fill of wine, and encourages Kahlan to take the last of the duck, pulling the plate away from Zedd before he can spear the morsel of flesh with his fork. 

When they return to the palace, Kahlan expects Cara to find her own bed and sleep off the last of her long journey, but she accompanies Kahlan to her chambers and, as soon as the door is latched, pulls her into a kiss. Her mouth is sweet with wine, her kisses heavy but tender. The room is aromatic with the scents of cedar and pine burning in the fireplace. 

Cara walks Kahlan backwards to the bed, but instead of pushing her to the mattress as is her wont, she reverses their positions so that she is the one to sit. "Take off your clothes," she says to Kahlan. It is not an order; she is beseeching Kahlan, and there is something desperate about her. 

Kahlan unlaces her dress from the front, feels the fine cloth come loose from her shoulders and slither to the floor. She is naked and Cara is fully clothed, but Cara is the one who asks for permission, pulling off her gloves and letting her hands hover tentatively over Kahlan's stomach. Kahlan presses them down firmly with her own hands and Cara looks up at her, eyes wide. "I wouldn't have stayed away if I didn't have to," she says. 

"I understand," says Kahlan. She pulls up one leg, then the other, to tug off Cara's boots. She reaches for Cara's laces, helps her slide free, and then revels in the feeling of smooth skin on skin as though they have not done this hours earlier. Cara sinks back and pulls Kahlan on top of her to straddle her lap. Cara's hands run over her bottom, the small of her back, up her spine, tangling in her hair. Her fingertips map every contour, every dip and peak as she stares up into Kahlan's face with absolute concentration. 

Kahlan gasps when Cara's hands trace up her ribcage and cup her breasts. "They're tender," she says. 

"I'll be careful," says Cara, leaving kisses in place of her hands, now smoothing up Kahlan's chest, back down over her stomach. She draws Kahlan's head down, kissing her so deeply Kahlan can't breathe. Her fingernails leave light trails down Kahlan's back before she grasps Kahlan's thighs and massages, thumbs working inward. Cara's right hand finally makes its way between Kahlan's legs, finding her wet and ready. Kahlan rocks against Cara, holds her tightly, digs into her skin when Cara's fingers enter her. Cara thrusts up over and over until Kahlan is riding her hand, using Cara's shoulders for balance, her head thrown back. 

Kahlan senses the danger signs, knows she has to stop. Her grip becomes a push and suddenly she is holding Cara at arm's length. "I'm about to--" She would blush, if she weren't already near to overheating. 

This is her only regret in sending for Cara. When they are together, it is always with the knowledge that they must hold some part of themselves back, that Kahlan can never fully touch Cara or let herself give in to--whatever this is that Cara stirs in her. She knows it must frustrate Cara at the very least, considering the pride she takes in winning every task she sets her hand to. 

Cara does not look frustrated; Kahlan has seen this narrowing of eyes and firming of mouth before when Cara is determined to have her way. She withdraws from Kahlan, who cannot help but sigh at the sudden lack of friction, and returns with a length of silk rope Kahlan didn't know she owned. Earlier they'd used the sash of her robe and Kahlan had stretched it badly. 

Cara bids Kahlan to lie down, binds her wrists together, ties them to the bedpost at the foot of the bed. She does this gracefully, patiently, where earlier in the day she was hurried and needful. She is taking her time, when all Kahlan wants is for Cara's touch to soothe the nearly unbearable ache between her legs. And she wants to be able to touch in return, finding her release with both hands tangled in Cara's hair. When Cara is done she kisses Kahlan again, a consuming kiss that leaves as much of Cara in her as she takes from Kahlan. It is not wanton, as Cara's kisses tend to be. Kahlan cannot put a name to it. 

Cara crouches over her, and Kahlan sees tenderness flicker over her features--or perhaps it is a trick of the light. She feels Cara's hand press against her again, then her fingers entering, and she wants to shut her eyes and dig her head into the mattress, but Cara holds her gaze steadily. She straddles Kahlan's leg, rubs herself against the firm muscle. Kahlan nearly moans at the heat of her; knowing how badly Cara wants her leaves a fresh wave of wetness damping her thighs. Cara thrusts harder and harder into Kahlan, rides her thigh with increasing urgency. She manages to rub Kahlan's clit once, twice, and sends her tumbling over the crest of pleasure. Cara doesn't stop moving, watching Kahlan's eyes black out until the last possible moment, and spends herself just as they start to clear. She collapses onto Kahlan's chest, breathing harshly. Kahlan's heart is a hammer under her ear. 

Cara reaches up, pulls the rope free, and returns to Kahlan's body. Kahlan holds her, face buried in Cara's hair. They are upside down in her bed, and that is how they fall asleep. 

* 

The next morning Kahlan wakes up feeling lighthearted. She has quite an appetite and thinks perhaps they should take breakfast outside, in her small private garden. She rolls over--and the bed is empty. Cara is probably already up and about, having never been one to linger over her pillow. Kahlan gets up, gets dressed, thinks on the work she has left from the day before; Cara will make herself known in her own time. In her morning room, Roseline has just started to set out breakfast. "Good morning, my lady," she says. 

"Good morning," says Kahlan, gifting her with a broad smile. 

Roseline returns it. "You've a good mood this morning," she says. 

Kahlan just takes her seat, her smile turning private. She notices there is only one setting. "Could you bring an extra place for Cara?" she asks. 

Roseline hesitates. "Is Mistress Cara coming back?" she asks. 

Kahlan frowns, sensing at last that something is amiss. "Coming back?" she repeats.    "Yes, my lady," says Roseline, stammering slightly. "The guard said she left at dawn. She went down to the stables and took a horse." 

Kahlan goes down to the stables herself to figure out this puzzle, and her heart sinks when the stable master reports that Cara also took two saddlebags filled with supplies. She can hardly believe that Cara has left, but her heart senses the truth of it. Cara is gone again. 

Kahlan goes to the first person she can think of: Zedd. He is having his own breakfast, reading a book as he devours an omelet. His greeting dies on his tongue as he sees her ashen face. "What's wrong?" he asks. 

Kahlan's hand rests on her stomach. "Cara's gone," she says. "She left with supplies. She took a horse. She..." Kahlan cannot bring herself to say any more, and it is all Zedd can do to hug her. Her mouth is set in a straight line by the time he lets her go, and she apologizes for interrupting his breakfast. 

"Nonsense, child," he says. "In fact, you should join me." 

"I have work to do," says Kahlan, leaving Zedd looking troubled. 

* 

It is months later, when the swell of Kahlan's stomach is nearly at its peak, that Kahlan learns anything of Cara. She wrote to Richard, asking him to send word should she arrive, but after weeks of no news save his condolences, Kahlan has resigned herself to Cara's absence. She thinks of Cara, almost daily, but no longer with the same sense of certainty that she will return.

When Kahlan wakes in the night to the sound of someone in her bedchamber, she thinks only of herself and the baby. 

It has been months since she first arrived at Aydindril, but her daggers are still tucked beneath her pillow, a habit she cannot quite bring herself to break. Drowsy, she reaches for them, waiting for the fog of sleep to lift. The person shuffles nearer, and Kahlan can hear clumsiness in the way they walk, in the way their breathing is audible, even from across the room. 

Whoever this person is, it is clear that they are not an assassin--at least, not a good one. 

There is a sigh, the sound of sheets rustling, and suddenly the mattress dips and Kahlan finds herself sitting, daggers at the ready, as Cara crawls into bed. 

She has not seen Cara in so long--not since the last time--and all she can do is stare, hardly believing her own eyes. Slowly, she tucks the daggers back under her pillow. 

Cara's eyes are closed, her face pressed down into the pillow. The first thing Kahlan notices is that her hair is longer. 

It's not braided, but it looks as though it was, once, tangled together in a column down her back. She looks slimmer, the bones of her shoulders jutting out beneath her skin just a little too far, in a way that makes Kahlan's heart ache. She does not reach out, but she knows that if she did, she would feel the bump of each of Cara's ribs beneath her fingers. It is the thinness of hunger, of true hardship, and all at once she is overwhelmed and overjoyed and _furious_ with Cara, for allowing this to happen to her, someplace where Kahlan could not follow. 

There is no sign of her Mord'Sith leather; she's wearing breeches and a shirt, like a common man. But the corset underneath is all the sign Kahlan needs that she dressed to do battle, as much as to go unnoticed. The fading bruises along her back, the cuts covered over with old blood, unwashed--they are signs of deliberate combat. The idea that Cara meant to do this to herself makes Kahlan angry all over again. 

"Cara," she says. She's nearly shaking with emotion, trying to keep the anger out of her voice and mostly failing. 

Cara does not reply--doesn't even move, and Kahlan tries again, shaking Cara's shoulder. She does not rouse. 

Kahlan waits for a long moment before she sighs and rises from bed. It is clear that, tired as she is, she will not be sleeping tonight. 

She leaves Cara, sleeping, and makes her way to the healers' supply room. She knows Cara, knows that even after all these weeks and the beating she took, she will not tolerate a healer. 

The force in her arms, as she tears linen into bandages, is--perhaps--not entirely necessary. 

* 

Cara wakes the next morning with the dawn--a clear sign that she has been traveling and sleeping outside. Kahlan is resting in the rocking chair beside her bed, watching. She has not slept. 

"Welcome back," she says. She doesn't mean to sound quite so much like the Mother Confessor, quite so angry, but she _is_. 

Cara blinks, orienting herself. She is clearly still groggy, whether it is from sleep or the hardship of her journey, Kahlan cannot tell. Once again, she feels anger, helpless and overwhelming, at the thought of Cara fighting somewhere without her. She wonders whether it was D'Harans, or banelings, or something different altogether. "Thank you," Cara says, bringing Kahlan out of her thoughts. Her voice is harsh, as though from disuse. Her hands go to the fresh bandages around her ribs and on her arms. "You didn't have to do that." 

Kahlan softens, immediately. "Of course I did." She's quiet for a moment, unsure of what to say next. It is a long while before she finds the courage to speak what's in her heart. "Where were you?" 

"I had an errand." 

"An errand that took you three months, and you didn't think to send word to me?" Kahlan wants to sound disapproving, angry, but she cannot keep the hurt from her voice. 

Cara won't meet her eyes. Kahlan can see the shame in them, the embarrassment, and she does not push. She knows that Cara has never been the type to apologize, and now is not the time for lessons. "I thought it would be shorter," she says, and Kahlan nearly laughs. 

She looks at Cara. Her heart wants her to demand more, to _know_ what happened and where Cara went, when she disappeared on her own. She wants Cara to say why she did not ask Kahlan to come, why she did not send word, even if the reason is obvious. But Cara is clearly contrite, hair falling into her eyes in tangles that she never would have allowed, before. And Kahlan has missed her so _much_ \--more than she thought she ever would--that she forgives Cara her silence, despite herself. 

"Your hair is long, now," she says. 

Cara reaches up to touch the ends, now well past her shoulder. Kahlan does not miss the way that the movement makes her wince. 

She looks at Kahlan, and Kahlan recognizes that expression. It is the curious one, the one that she always gets when she is feeling something for the first time. Her eyes are on Kahlan's belly. "You got so big," Cara says, voice barely a whisper. 

Kahlan can feel herself blushing, proud despite herself, and she slides one hand to cup her belly. The baby is kicking at her palm, and that is what puts the smile in Kahlan's voice as she says, "I did. The midwife says any day now." 

Cara sits up, jaw clenching with pain that she refuses to acknowledge, even after Kahlan has seen the new scars and bruises along her skin. She leans forward, and it is clear that she is eager to move closer, but there is guilt behind her eyes that does not dissipate. 

Kahlan knows--has always known, since well before she and Cara were ever intimate--that Cara is not the kind to share her emotions. She will never be the doting lover, resting a hand on top of Kahlan's and asking about all of the ways their daughter has grown since that last night. (The one that Kahlan has thought of, over and over again.) Kahlan has never expected that of her. 

Cara looks up at her, eyes wide. When she says, "Confess me," Kahlan expects that even less. 

It hits her like a physical blow, the very notion of it and the fact that Cara is asking. She can't help but think about Mord'Sith she has confessed in the past, about what it would _do_ to Cara, and the idea of that and losing Cara all over again fills her with emotion. She turns away as best she can, unable to look at Cara. She feels her throat tighten, and knows that she isn't tearing yet, but she will. 

" _Cara_ ," is all she can say, halfway between an admonishment and a refusal. 

"I'm being serious," Cara says. Her tone is rude, almost accusatory, but Kahlan has known Cara long enough to understand the meaning behind her voice. "Confess me." 

Kahlan stands, with some effort. She feels slow, awkward, with the baby settled this way on her hips, but she is too upset to remain still. The idea of Cara asking for confession--asking for _death_ \--is something she can hardly stand to hear. "Cara," she all but whispers, facing the window. Below her, Aydindril is waking. "I could never think about--" 

From the edge of her vision, she can see Cara stand, fluid despite her injuries, the hiss of pain barely audible. "What do you think I was _doing_ all this time?" Cara says, nearly shouting. 

Kahlan doesn't understand what Cara means anymore, doesn't know what she wants or where she was or why she came back, if it was only to ask for something Kahlan would never give. "I don't _know_ , Cara," she finally shouts, composure shaken. Vaguely, she is ashamed of herself for losing her temper, but she feels as though she has earned the privelege. "I don't have any idea what you could possibly have been doing, wandering all over the Midlands by yourself. Did you ever even think to--" 

"I took care of it," Cara interrupts. Her voice is quiet, almost childlike, but her spine is straight and her expression is sure. "You won't hurt me." 

Kahlan doesn't know what to say. She is still too full with anger and relief and confusion, heart aching. Cara shuffles forward, barely a step, and asks again. "Confess me." 

"Because you think, somehow, you're immune?" 

"I am." 

Cara's voice is calm, insistent, and Kahlan just wishes she knew what to do. If it were anything else--anything but _this_ \--Kahlan knows she would trust Cara's instincts in a heartbeat. "What if you're wrong?" she finally asks, in a voice that sounds small even to her own ears. 

"I'm not wrong," Cara says, as though offended by the very suggestion. 

"Cara, what if you are?" Kahlan can't bear to say it, but the words are there, caught in her throat. _I could lose you._

Cara steps forward, and reaches for Kahlan's hand. Her fingers are shaking as she wraps them around Kahlan's wrist, and Kahlan can't tell if it's from nervousness or exhaustion. When she feels Cara's touch, it's electric, something she did not know she missed. "Do you trust me?" Cara says. 

Kahlan has always been a terrible liar, and she learned long ago that it was much easier not to try. She nods. 

Cara brings Kahlan's hand up, wraps it around her throat. "Do it, then." 

Kahlan watches Cara for a long while, memorizing her face. Just in case.   
Cara waits, patient and proud, and it makes Kahlan all the more reluctant. She has never been more afraid, as she looks into Cara's eyes and releases the hold she keeps on her magic. She waits for that familiar tug, the feeling of someone else's spirit entering her own. 

Nothing happens. 

Kahlan releases the breath she didn't know she was holding, not sure whether to laugh or cry. "Spirits," she whispers, moving her palm from Cara's throat to her cheek, stroking hair away from Cara's face. "How did you--?" 

Cara looks away, shifting on her feet. As though she is embarrassed at being found out. The smile she gives Kahlan is awkward, shy, as she reaches out to rest her fingertips on the swell of Kahlan's belly. "We're going to have a daughter," she says, and something in her explanation is more than Kahlan can bear. Overwhelmed, heart full, she feels tears begin to fall. "I didn't want you to worry." 

Kahlan cannot find words at all. She leans forward, too proud and grateful to speak, and presses her forehead to Cara's. Cara steps closer, wrapping strong arms around Kahlan's back. 

For the first time in weeks, Kahlan feels safe and at peace. 

* 

And so Cara begins to settle in at Aydindril, if "settle" is the right word at all. Kahlan can only think to compare her to a horse being trained to the saddle, slowly being coaxed into accepting the weight settling about her shoulders. She is uneasy more often than not, prowling the halls and spooking guards with her catfooted approach. During the day Kahlan knows she is usually within earshot. Cara does not like to be far from her; she discovers this when she has a cramping attack one day and Cara appears nearly out of thin air, wide-eyed with panic. The attack passes quickly enough and Roseline assures her that they sometimes happen in a pregnancy, but nothing can convince Cara that if she does not hover nearby at all times, something dire will befall Kahlan. She begins to understand how Richard must have felt, having Cara eye him sideways with skepticism every day.

Kahlan does not know where Cara goes when she is not nearby; she is certainly never in her chambers. They are an austere set of rooms that Cara does not bother to decorate, something that Kahlan can only find ominous. Her possessions still fit mostly into a single rucksack, leaving her prepared for departure at any moment. But Kahlan also remembers with frightening clarity the signs of Cara's suffering, can only imagine what she endured to become immune to confession. Cara is still gaining back the weight she lost, and when she presses herself to Kahlan, Kahlan can still feel the sharp jut of her pelvis and collarbones, can still count off her ribs with ease. Cara is here to stay.

Kahlan simply doesn't know _where_ Cara is staying. 

She begins to notice that even as Cara fills out, the bags under her eyes become more pronounced. Her face is shaded with fatigue every day. "Are you okay?" she asks Cara one morning at breakfast. She reaches out to cup Cara's cheek, aware that it will make Cara flinch and not caring. She loves the simplicity of being able to touch Cara at any time, to reassure herself that Cara is real and solid. On the nights when Cara comes to her bed, she knows she will wake up to a crown of blonde hair haloed by sunshine, that Cara will already be awake and staring at her with hooded blue eyes, that she will wordlessly rise and bring Kahlan a cup of tea. All these things she cherishes.

"I'm fine," says Cara, digging into a biscuit spread thickly with grape jam. That is another thing that has delighted Kahlan--Cara's sweet tooth, severely repressed and rarely indulged when they were on the road and had little coin for such things. 

"You look tired," says Kahlan, finally withdrawing her hand before Cara can pull away entirely. She strokes Cara's chin with the pad of her thumb once, indulgently.

"I've just been...busy," says Cara. It is one of her more obvious lies.

"Busy with what?" asks Kahlan, genuinely curious. 

Cara simply tilts her head slightly to the right. "Busy."

Kahlan finally understands when, a few nights later, she is awakened by the sound of someone stumbling against a piece of furniture. She does not bolt upright, does not scream for help. She moves slowly, so slowly as to be imperceptible under her sheets. She finds the handle of her dagger, grips it in preparation to throw. But then a voice speaks out: "Kahlan, it's me." She does sit up then, because Cara is at the foot of her bed, looking as sheepish as she can look.

"What are you doing in here?" Kahlan asks, running a hand through her disheveled hair. 

"Watching you," says Cara.

"Come to bed," says Kahlan. 

And because Cara was tired enough to give herself away, she obeys Kahlan without a fight. She strips out of her leather with economical movements and slides up against Kahlan's body, warm skin on smooth cotton shift. "Do you watch me often?" Kahlan asks when Cara has finally settled.

"Every night," says Cara.

Kahlan feels Cara's fingers flex against her waist, and thinks back. Cara still rises with the dawn, eats Roseline's good food as though she might not have a next meal, constantly darts her eyes about as though expecting an attack from any quarter. She is not back yet, not really. "Stay with me," she says. "Stay here if you want to watch me."

"My quarters--" Cara begins.

"Stay with me," Kahlan repeats. She turns over within the circle of Cara's arms and kisses her lightly. "And sleep. I can watch you too."

Cara breathes for a second, regarding Kahlan steadily. And then, slowly, her eyes close. Slumber comes for her in minutes. 

When Kahlan awakes in the morning, Cara is still asleep.

* 

Kahlan was hesitant, even after Cara moved into more permanent quarters, to ask if Cara wanted to be present at the birth.

She thought of it, often--every time the midwife came to visit or Zedd offered to be there for her. There were days when the words seemed ready in her throat, as Cara lay beside her in bed, feeling the baby kicking under her palms with the same expression of wonder on her face that Kahlan held in her heart. Still, Kahlan can never find it in herself to say them, and her last month is wearing on, the baby seeming to grow heavier and heavier with each passing day. 

But when the baby finally comes, Cara is at her side without being asked, fretting at the midwife and holding Kahlan's hand through the waves of pain that never quite seem to end. Vaguely, Kahlan feels silly for not having mentioned it sooner. 

The labor is long, but Cara is with her for all of it, stroking Kahlan's hair as she rests her head against Cara's shoulder, exhausted. The midwife brings her daughter, warm and pink and crying, and she is the most beautiful thing that Kahlan has ever seen. She is solid and real; Kahlan can see and touch and smell, can stroke the downy wisps of blonde hair and kiss the tiny hands, each one no bigger than her own nose. She can hear her daughter breathing and feel her heartbeat fluttering and it almost seems a miracle how her little mouth can open in a yawn, making her chest rise and fall. From the corner of her eye, she can see that Cara is smiling, in a way that seems natural and unexpected all at once. She is proud, the way that Kahlan is proud, and even though Kahlan's heart feels full to bursting, that knowledge makes it swell further still. 

Kahlan strokes her daughter's forehead, cuddling her close, with arms that barely feel strong enough to support the weight. She wants nothing more than to sleep for a hundred years, but she cannot bear the thought of closing her eyes just yet. The baby settles under her hand, blinking eyes that don't quite open. 

Slowly, with a tentative hand, Cara reaches out and strokes the baby's cheek with her fingertip. The baby squirms under Cara's touch, turning to face it, and the look on her daughter's face makes Kahlan feel so much that she hardly knows how to express it. 

"She's lovely," Cara says, voice hushed, as though she is concerned about waking the baby. She almost sounds surprised by the notion. 

"Of course she is," Kahlan says, and the smile Cara gives her in return is almost shy. She hides it in a kiss pressed to Kahlan's forehead, clearly embarrassed. Kahlan wishes she understood what Cara had expected, but thinks better of asking. 

"You're calling her Sonia?" 

Kahlan nods. "Unless you have a name you'd like?" 

Something flickers across Cara's face, for a moment, but the smile she gives Kahlan is soft and genuine as she says, "No. Sonia is perfect." 

As far as Kahlan can tell, she is. 

* 

The next few weeks are a blur of visiting, from family and friends and political allies she did not even know Aydindril had. It seems as though half of the Midlands wishes to pay respects to the first daughter of the Mother Confessor, the first in what everyone seems to think will be an enormous family of new Confessor daughters--as though it is Kahlan's responsibility to replenish the line herself. Cara is by her side for all of it, at attention in her Mord'Sith leather when they have guests, just behind Kahlan's right hand. 

Kahlan does not miss the way Cara pales every time a guest who does not know them well speaks about "the next one" in passing, as though it is self-evident. There is some comfort in knowing that she is not alone in her doubts about raising one daughter, let alone the dozens that some people seem to expect. 

When they are alone, an entirely different Cara begins to emerge. She sets her agiels to the side, more careful than Kahlan has ever seen her, and takes Sonia in her arms, holding her close. There is something almost comical, as she settles into the a rocking chair in Kahlan's quarters with the baby on her knee, at once the terror of the Midlands and a proud parent. She learns to feed Sonia, to take care of her when she is sick, and when Kahlan cannot be near, Sonia fusses for everyone but Cara. 

Richard sends gifts, the sort befitting of Lord Rahl, and writes long letters overflowing with excitement Kahlan would expect from a grandfather or brother, if she had either. She pictures him smiling as he heard the news, boyish and overjoyed, and cannot help but feel more than loved. She promises to visit soon and wishes him well in her reply, reminding him that if he ever desires to spend time at Aydindril, he will be welcome. 

Still, it is a surprise when word comes, scarcely four months after Sonia's birth, that he has closed his fledgling parliament for one full month, to visit. 

Richard has never been like a brother to Kahlan, always something slightly more and slightly less, but from the moment he arrives at Aydindril he is the best sort of doting uncle to Sonia. He brings more gifts: clothes and toys for Sonia, lovely art and jewels for Kahlan, a fine, springy bow for Cara. Sonia takes to him right away and he spends long hours marveling over her, his finger perpetually clasped in one of her hands. 

*

They are both there, the afternoon that Sonia says her first word. 

Kahlan is at her desk, going over proposals from the Council's latest meeting, signing the ones that she deems just, setting aside the ones that are not. It is tedious work, one of her least favorite duties as the Mother Confessor. Cara is at her side, one eye on the shrinking stack of papers at Kahlan's elbow, one eye on Sonia and her building-block village. 

She's crawling, now, nearly able to stand, and Kahlan can hardly believe how much she has grown, how little time a year can be. Sonia squeals with excitement, knocking down her block towers with a broad, innocent smile that Kahlan would protect with her own life. Beside her, Cara laughs, leaning forward to watch Sonia more closely. 

Kahlan can tell, from the slope of her spine, that Cara wishes for nothing more than to join Sonia and her toys on the floor. It is not the first time that Kahlan has noticed Cara holding herself back, and she wishes--as always--that she could understand the reasons for it. 

Sonia looks to her blocks, then back to Cara's wide smile, and she makes the same choice that Kahlan would. She reaches two chubby arms out to Cara, beaming, and says, "Daddy." 

Cara is across the room, Sonia in her arms and halfway to her shoulder before she realizes what has just happened. "Did she just talk?" 

Kahlan raises her eyebrows, unsure. Cara rests Sonia on her hip, watching her face carefully. Sonia watches back, and Kahlan is struck once again by the resemblance between them, the matching expressions of sober regard on both faces. "Were you talking to me?" Cara asks, her voice low and gentle, as it always is with the baby. 

"Da!" Sonia squeals, and she reaches out to wrap her arms around Cara's neck, cuddling close. 

Cara shakes her head and moves Sonia away again, careful but firm. "Cara," she says, pointing at herself. She smiles down at Sonia, encouraging and motherly, behavior that she only allows herself when it is just the three of them. Kahlan loves that part of Cara, the one that only she can see. She wishes that she could share it with everyone. "Can you say that? _Cara_." 

"Da," Sonia repeats, insistent, and kisses Cara on the cheek. "Daddy." 

Cara hugs Sonia close, eyes shut tight. Kahlan can see the emotion in her face, and there is an answering swell of feeling in her own heart. Kahlan's daughter-- _their_ daughter--can talk. Kahlan beams at the both of them, so happy that she cannot keep herself from showing it. 

"Did you teach her that?" Cara says, one hand cupping the back of Sonia's head. 

"Teach her what?" 

" _That_ ," Cara says. She tries to draw her mouth into a frown, but her head is angled down so that Sonia can bury her face against the curve of her shoulder, and her voice holds the same steady, near-infinite calm. It is impossible to take her exasperation seriously. "To call me _daddy_." 

"Of course not," Kahlan replies, and it is the truth, but she smiles all the same. "You have to admit, though, it sort of fits." 

"It certainly doesn't." 

"I don't know," Kahlan says, teasing. She sets down her quill and rises. "After all, you never wear skirts." 

Cara rolls her eyes, heel making contact with the ground. It is the sharpest display of emotion she will allow herself, in front of the baby. 

Kahlan begins to laugh, as she crosses the room to kiss them both. 

* 

It's not until later that they revisit the conversation. Long after Sonia has been put to bed for the night and left with her nurse, a bright-eyed girl named Dreia who very nearly cried with terror the first time that she and Cara met. 

Cara still has her own quarters, the ones she was given when she arrived at Aydindril months ago, but she sleeps in Kahlan's bed nine evenings out of ten. Kahlan has never been sure what that makes her--if sharing a bed means that Cara is her lover, or her wife, the way that she would begin to assume if Cara were a man. She never thinks to press the issue. 

Instead, she chooses to enjoy the company, smiling as Cara slides into bed first, naked skin golden against the white of Kahlan's sheets. Kahlan strips down to her shift and slides under the covers, settling against Cara's body in a way that has, after all these months, become habit. 

Cara is quiet tonight, almost sullen. She strokes Kahlan's hair, and hums as Kahlan presses kisses to her throat, but it's clear that her mind is far away in thought. "What is it?" Kahlan asks. 

"Nothing," Cara says, and Kahlan accepts her lie. She has learned that sometimes, it is best to let Cara talk about things on her own time. 

Kahlan shifts, resting her cheek on Cara's shoulder. She is almost asleep when Cara takes a breath, and speaks again. "She called me daddy. Where would she learn that?" Cara sits up, resting her head on one arm in a position that has always reminded Kahlan of Richard. "I am a woman, I take care of her just fine." 

Kahlan chuckles, running her palm across Cara's ribs. She means it to be comforting, but she can feel the way that her touch raises goosebumps across Cara's skin. "She's hardly a year old," she says, voice even. "I'm sure she didn't mean it." 

Cara sighs, clearly not mollified. "It was her first word, I'm sure she meant it." 

"You can always teach her the proper thing to say." 

"I suppose," Cara says, but there is annoyance in her voice. 

"Cara," Kahlan says, in the tone she reserves for particularly stubborn supplicants. "Sonia can _talk_. Our child knows a word." 

The phrase, _our child_ , hangs heavy in the air, until Kahlan feels as though she can hardly breathe through the thudding of her own heart. She has thought it before, watching Cara, discussing matters with Richard or Zedd, but the words have never been said quite like that, before. Beneath her, Cara is motionless. 

"Yes," Cara says, flexing the fingers buried in Kahlan's hair. Her voice is soft, thoughtful, and Kahlan knows that she is thinking more of the fact that Sonia is _theirs_ than Sonia's first word. Suddenly, it is easier to breathe. "I suppose you're right." 

"Of course I am," she says, pulling Cara closer. Then, " _Daddy_." 

In an instant, Kahlan is on her back, her hips bookended by Cara's knees. "Don't you start," Cara says, her voice the sort of warning that is hardly a deterrent, eyes dark. 

A thrill runs down Kahlan's spine, as she drags her nails along Cara's arms. "Don't start what?" she replies, innocent. 

"You know what," Cara says, pinning Kahlan's hands above her head. She leans down, and when her mouth presses to Kahlan's it is to _take_ kisses from her, rather than to give. Her hips are in motion, grinding down against Kahlan's in a way that's selfish, almost masculine. Kahlan knows she's doing this on purpose. 

"I'm sure I don't," Kahlan says. 

Cara rolls her eyes and begins to move lower, holding Kahlan's wrists with one hand while she works at her shift with the other. As the linen slips down, Cara covers the skin with her mouth, kissing a path across Kahlan's breasts. When Cara bites, Kahlan arches up and groans, " _Daddy_." 

"Kahlan," she says, voice a warning, rough with arousal. She thrusts with her hips once, hard. 

"Yes?" Kahlan says, trying to sound innocent and unconcerned, even as her breath is coming in gasps. 

Cara grins, wolfish and hungry, and rucks Kahlan's shift higher, baring her thighs and more. She slides her free hand down to Kahlan's center, slipping her fingers against skin and finding her wet and wanting already. Cara raises her eyebrows, as though understanding is clicking into place, and Kahlan knows that she will never hear the end of this. Cara's fingers are teasing against her, pressing at her entrance but going no further. It is purposeful, meant to leave Kahlan groaning in frustration and bucking her hips against Cara, nearly begging for her hands where Kahlan needs them the most. 

"Go on, then," Cara says, eyes laughing. "Say it." 

Kahlan whimpers, completely undone with shame and lust, and hides her face. Cara presses her fingers up, crooking them just so, very nearly what Kahlan wants but not quite enough. "Please," she whispers, core aching. She can feel a blush rise up in her cheeks as she says. " _Daddy_." 

Cara grins, the way she always does when she has won, and then she slips her fingers inside, filling Kahlan just enough. She thrusts, hard, and Kahlan feels her hips buck down in reply.  
Cara shifts, putting her hips behind her hand and finding a rhythm. Kahlan feels overwhelmed, almost beside herself as she whimpers in time. Cara braces herself with her free hand, heavy on Kahlan's hip, and Kahlan wraps her hand around that wrist secure in the knowledge that Cara is safe, that she does not need to hold back. It is something she never thought she'd feel.  
When she finishes, it's with a shout, clenching around Cara's fingers, letting go of her body and her magic all at once in a way that makes her feel utterly free. Kahlan is not sure she will ever tire of it, the luxury of being able to be with Cara like this, without worry. 

She sighs, spreading herself out on the bed as Cara releases her hands, sitting back on her heels to look at Kahlan. It is a long moment before she is able to catch her breath, and Cara smiles down at her all the while, one hand resting on Kahlan's hip. 

Kahlan sits, and presses her palm to the heat between Cara's legs, with no warning. Cara grins, angling her hips towards her, and Kahlan feels nothing but slickness. Kahlan twitches her fingers, and Cara shudders, giving herself away. "I _knew_ it," Kahlan says, unable to hide a smile. "You liked that." 

Cara turns her head away, huffing in irritation, and Kahlan knows immediately that she is embarrassed at being caught. She pushes Kahlan back to the bed and Kahlan allows it, licking her lips. "Are you going to do something about that?" she says, "Or are we just going to spend the rest of the night having a discussion?" 

Kahlan just smiles, and pulls Cara down to her. They don't talk.


	3. Chapter Three

Sonia has been riding with Cara since she was born, taken on various excursions to the People's Palace or to the cottage they keep on the outskirts of the farmlands surrounding Aydindril. During her early months Cara took her riding at night, when she was fitful and could not sleep. It was common for the city guards to see Cara plodding wearily along the streets of Aydindril, one hand clutching a restless bundle in a sling to her front. When Sonia was older, she went in a cradle board on Cara's back, watching the world recede behind them. 

Today she is allowed to ride with daddy, sitting in the saddle like a big girl, resting securely against daddy's stomach. Cara and Kahlan are taking their usual summer journey to the cottage. The entire city knows of this tradition, just as they know that this is a time of solitude for the Mother Confessor. They take only a light retinue of hand-picked guards who make camp and patrol nearby. Approaching her for any reason is the height of crassness, and the citizens of Aydindril guard her privacy jealously. 

"I think I should carry her," says Cara, watching Kahlan tug the straps on her pack. 

"She's been begging to ride with you for weeks," says Kahlan, who has done most of the packing while Cara frets out loud. 

"Hmm," says Cara, just as the door bursts open to admit a joyful Sonia. She trips haphazardly down the steps, which sends Cara and Kahlan surging towards her, but she lands surely on two feet. She has always been a sure-footed child, which is a fortunate companion trait for her curiosity. Most recently Cara found her on top of a bookcase, about to ambush Zedd from above, and just managed to snatch her in mid-air. She has never told Kahlan about this incident, just as she has never told Kahlan about the many dozens of times Sonia might have cracked her head but did not. 

"Daddy!" says Sonia, hurtling herself in Cara's waiting arms. 

Cara stands up with Sonia on her hip. "Are you ready?" she asks seriously. 

"Yes." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes." 

Kahlan gives Sonia a kiss on the cheek. "Remember, don't give daddy trouble when you're on her horse. It's a big responsibility, okay?" 

Sonia's dark eyes reflect Kahlan's solemnly. She draws a big breath, opens her mouth, and says, "Yes." In some respects, she is very much Cara's child. 

They go down to the stables together, Sonia babbling excitedly the whole way about "her" horse, the gentle dark bay stallion Cara rides when she is with Sonia. She greets Stormy by name as he is led out of his paddock by waving both hands enthusiastically; Cara has long since become accustomed to adjusting on the fly to Sonia's sudden movements and windmilling antics. Stormy sniffs her, searching for the sugar cubes and fruit slices she likes to sneak him and, ever affectionate with animals, she gives him a kiss on the nose. 

Kahlan holds Sonia while Cara mounts; Sonia squirms the entire time, reaching for daddy, eager to be out in the open on this breezy summer day. Cara finally gets Sonia settled in front of her, where she sits proudly in the saddle, looking around at everyone to make sure she is seen. She kicks her heels. "Go Stormy!" she says. 

Stormy, to his credit, remains placid. "Sonia," says Kahlan, once, the warning clear. 

Sonia is still, remembering the multiple discussions about behavior when riding with daddy. Kahlan likes to tease Cara that Sonia resembles her in this too, the way she heeds the sharpness of her mother's voice. She does this knowing that Cara's response will be to prove how little she actually may heed Kahlan when pressed. 

When they are all mounted and the guard has arranged themselves in an escort formation, they move out, taking the main thoroughfare through the city. People have turned out to line the way, waving goodbye with handkerchiefs and flowers. Kahlan acknowledges this with her usual grace, smiling and keeping a stately pace. 

Then a child darts into the street, directly in front of Stormy. Whether he wants a closer look at the Mother Confessor's retinue or simply wants to cross the street does not matter; Stormy shies away, spooking the horse next to him, which in turn sets off some of the other horses. Half the procession is caught in a scrum of heavy, snorting bodies and Cara suddenly finds herself struggling to keep her seat. She is clutching Sonia to her body with one hand, checking Stormy's reins with the other, trying to guide him with her knees, and looking for Kahlan out of the corner of her eye. Her heart is beating madly against her ribcage, a barrage fit to drown out the whinnying and warning cries. 

But Stormy settles quickly enough; he is well trained, as if Cara would allow her daughter to ride a skittish horse. The guards reform their lines and the boy has disappeared, perhaps aware of the mess he has left behind. Cara is still casting her eye about for him when Kahlan touches her shoulder. "It's okay," she says, as though soothing horse and rider alike. 

"That boy--" says Cara. 

"We're fine," says Kahlan. She smiles at Sonia. "Aren't we?" 

Sonia giggles and looks up at Cara, absolutely unafraid. "Hi, daddy," she says. 

"Weren't you scared?" asks Cara. Kahlan can see her throat frogging, swallowing down the fear. 

"No," says Sonia, that simple truthfulness that Kahlan takes such pride in, that Cara appreciates even as it surprises her. "I like riding with daddy." Her trust is absolute; it did not occur to her in the least to be scared. 

Her heels twitch and Kahlan's smile becomes a reproving eye. But Cara is suddenly exhilarated, and when they finally pass through the main gate, she gives Stormy his head and races across the plains, Kahlan and the guards trying to catch up, Sonia giggling all the way. 

* 

Sonia has been ill many times, as children tend to be. As a baby, she had her share of colds, and she is no different as she grows older, bringing home runny noses and sore throats from the other children at Aydindril. When she is four, she spends hours playing with Roseline's youngest, a bright girl of twelve who is now old enough to watch children on her own, eager at a chance to help with the daughter of the Mother Confessor. One morning, she is coughing, and Kahlan thinks nothing of it, except to remind Cara to have her wear a sweater over her play clothes. 

Two days after that, she does not want to play, not even when Kahlan plies her with the prospect of going to see Stormy with daddy. Instead, she sleeps away the morning, looking smaller than Kahlan remembers her from the day before. Her forehead is hot beneath Kahlan's hand, even as she shivers further into her blankets. 

Kahlan calls for the healer that afternoon. 

The healer listens to Sonia, lays hands on her belly and her chest, examines her mouth. Kahlan watches, trying to keep the dignity of the Mother Confessor around her, but the more time the healer spends with her daughter, the more she begins to fret. Cara, standing beside her with an unreadable look on her face, presses her shoulder against Kahlan's. She notices the fraying edges of Kahlan's composure, as she always has, and Kahlan has never been more grateful for it than she is now. 

The healer sighs, tucking Sonia into bed, and says that there is nothing to be done. The sickness is in her chest, and if they are fortunate and help her to eat and drink, it will leave again in time. She does not say what will happen if the sickness gets worse, and Kahlan has never felt so useless. As the healer leaves, Kahlan laces her fingers through Cara's, keeping her close. 

Cara allows it, patiently, and that is all Kahlan can ask of her. 

* 

Kahlan spends the next day with Sonia, trying not to fret. But she is a mother, and knowing that the pale, gasping girl curled next to her in the bed belongs to her is almost more than Kahlan can bear. 

But she smiles, and sings songs, and tries to coax Sonia into eating the soup and tea that Roseline brings, a spoonful at a time. Sonia's fever does not break, and her cough--a horrible, wet noise from deep in Sonia's chest that makes Kahlan's heart ache--does not improve, but she does not get worse. 

Kahlan sleeps in Sonia's room that night, on the bench beside her bed, nesting in pillows and clean blankets. If Cara misses her in bed, she does not send word to Kahlan. 

* 

The next morning, Kahlan dresses in her Confessor's white, as though it is any other day. But the moment that Finch comes to her, asking if she will be seeing supplicants that day, she is overcome with the feeling that she can't bear to be away from her daughter. She shakes her head, and Finch understands immediately, leaving the room with a tight frown and an offer to help if he is able. 

It is some comfort for Kahlan to know that she is not alone in her worry, as Cara, for her part, is nowhere to be seen. 

She was there when Kahlan woke in the morning, pressing a kiss to Kahlan's forehead with hardly a word, but she disappeared shortly after that, and Kahlan has been spending her free moments wondering where Cara has gone and quietly fuming, wishing that she were here with her daughter. 

* 

That night, Cara comes in to Sonia's room to press another kiss to Kahlan's forehead, face drawn as though she's exhausted - from what, Kahlan can hardly imagine. 

"Where have you been today?" Kahlan says, voice so rough that she almost sounds ill herself. There is a cup of tea pressed into her hands, and she drinks from it as though in a trance, barely noticing the taste of honey and strong herbs. 

"How is she?" Cara says, and a part of Kahlan is vaguely irritated with the way she chooses to sidestep the question entirely. 

"No better," Kahlan replies, trying to keep the fear from her voice. 

"But no worse?" 

Kahlan shakes her head, unable to speak, and Cara considers her for a long moment before she asks, "Would you like me to stay?" 

It is all Kahlan can do to nod, shoulders slumping forward. Cara does not ask her to move. Instead, she climbs onto the bench behind her, sliding down until Kahlan is sitting between her legs. She wraps herself around Kahlan from behind, strong arms at her waist and her cheek against her shoulder, pulling her close. Kahlan sighs, ready to lie down and sleep, but Cara holds her upright. 

"Finish your tea," she says, in a tone that is gentle but brooks no argument. "Roseline will be upset if you don't." 

The last three sips feel like a supreme effort, but Kahlan finishes the drink, as Cara brushes her hair away from her shoulder, across her neck. It feels heavenly, and Kahlan is asleep almost before her head hits the pillow, Cara's breath warm across her skin and Sonia breathing noisily in her own bed. 

* 

When Kahlan wakes, Cara is gone again. Dimly, she remembers waking for a moment, a hand in her hair and a soft kiss to her temple, but that could just has easily have been a dream. 

Sonia is awake, but barely, playing limply with the little toy knight she insists on calling Richard, having him fight pitched battles with her other toys across the bedclothes. The only evidence that Cara was ever there is the fresh shift Sonia is wearing, and the fact that her hair has been combed. 

Kahlan rises, trying to ignore her frustration and ceaseless thoughts of where Cara might be. There is work to be done, and Roseline will be here soon with fresh soup. 

Much later in the day--after three hardly-touched meals and a coughing fit so prolonged that Sonia's lips turn blue for a few terrifying minutes--they are settled together in Sonia's bed, reading stories together. Kahlan has not seen Cara since the evening before, and there is a part of her so angry that she wants to go find her, for the express purpose of losing her temper. But she cannot bear the thought of leaving Sonia, not until her fever breaks. The worry settled in her stomach hours before, and Kahlan feels sick from it. 

"Mama," Sonia says, looking up at Kahlan with tired, trusting eyes that make Kahlan want to give her the world. "Is daddy here?" 

Kahlan's chest tightens, and she hides it in a kiss pressed to the top of Sonia's head, suddenly overwhelmed. She was never a good liar, especially not to her daughter, and so there are tears of frustration pricking at her eyes as she says, "No." 

Sonia sighs, with all the dramatic flair a four-year-old can muster. "Oh," she says, tracing the seams of the quilt with her fingertip. "Maybe she'll come back later."  
"I hope she will." 

And then Sonia begins to cough, a long bout that makes her breath come in wheezes as Kahlan rubs her back, trying to keep her calm. When she has finished, her eyes are watering but she's smiling up at Kahlan. "Sing the song again?" she asks. "The lily one." 

"Of course," Kahlan says, and takes Sonia in her arms, rocking her to sleep as she begins to sing. 

If Cara returns, it is not until long after Kahlan has fallen asleep for the night. 

* 

Kahlan wakes the next morning with Sonia at her side, shaking her awake with gentle hands. 

"Mama," she's saying, over and over, and Kahlan sits with her heart in her throat, suddenly terrified that something has happened. 

Her daughter is standing in front of her, shift wrinkled from sleep the night before. She looks pale, and the cough is still low in her chest, wet and frightening, but her cheeks are pink and she is standing. 

"Yes?" Kahlan says, one hand on Sonia's forehead, feeling for the fever. 

"I'm hungry," Sonia says. 

Kahlan is so relieved that she could cry, as she hugs Sonia and presses a kiss to her cheek. Her fever has broken.

She wants to stay with Sonia for the rest of the day, as her appetite returns and she grows stronger, laughing with Roseline and asking to be allowed to play outside. But Kahlan has been away from her people for three full days, and that is far too many. She is the Mother Confessor, and there is no other to take her place without sending for Dennee, so she asks Roseline's daughter to take care of Sonia, and begins to dress for a day of work. 

She does not allow herself to wonder where Cara has gone, or why she is not there to take care of Sonia. There are things to be done. 

Kahlan arrives in her office expecting a desk piled with paper, in utter disarray. The number of records she must keep and edicts she must write continues to astound her, and it seems as though there is always more to be done. When she opens the door to a clean desk, three tidy piles of paper in the center, she very nearly checks that she has gone to the right room. 

Her work has been done, in a hand not her own, but neat and legible all the same. There is a pile for documents to be read, another for documents to be signed, and a third for papers that appear to be complete, seal of Aydindril and all. She thinks to herself, _Finch_ , and goes to his desk to thank him. 

Finch looks at her in surprise, confusion across his face. "I haven't done it, Mother Confessor," he says. 

There is something in his eyes, something that pricks at the edges of her Confessor's magic, and Kahlan knows that he is keeping something from her. "Finch," she says. "What haven't you told me?" 

"You didn't know?" 

"Didn't know what?" 

He starts, as though nervous about revealing a secret, and looks down at his hands. "Your - Mistress Cara. She had me show her how to write the orders. She has been here day and night since Sonia fell ill." 

Kahlan _feels_ the shock of it, and all she can do is stare. Finch shifts awkwardly under her gaze. "I apologize for not telling you sooner." 

Kahlan shakes her head, hardly the picture of composure. "No, no - thank you for telling me. If you'll excuse me." 

She feels foolish, ashamed of herself, for having doubts about Cara. She can feel her ears burning, even as she rushes to Cara's chambers. She has no idea of what she'll say when she arrives, of how she will ever apologize for being so angry at her with so little reason, but Kahlan suddenly needs to see her, very much. 

Cara is not in her room, nor in Kahlan's. Very last, she checks the adjoining room where Sonia sleeps. 

Kahlan finds Cara in bed with Sonia, a history book in her lap, telling her of the time when she and Kahlan and Uncle Richard saved an entire village from an army of banelings. Sonia is laughing and resting her head against Cara's middle, content as can be, so unfazed by the idea of an army of dead spirits that she must be Cara's child. 

"Cara," Kahlan says, standing by the door. She feels as though she can't breathe. 

"Mommy!" Sonia says, squirming against Cara's lap and patting the bed beside her, making room. 

Cara smiles, but the rest of her face is nervous, and she is watching Kahlan tentatively over Sonia's head. Of course she has sensed Kahlan's irritation over the past few days; she is as attuned to Kahlan's moods as she is protective of her own. Kahlan feels guilty and ashamed and grateful all at once, until it makes her throat tighten and her heart beat faster. 

"Thank you," Kahlan says, because it is all she can say. It does not feel like enough. 

"Of course," Cara says. She leans over Sonia, pointing out etchings of banelings as if they are vitally important, but Kahlan can tell that she is biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. 

She joins them on the bed, letting Sonia settle in her lap. As she sits, she feels a hand on her waist, protective in an absent sort of way. The touch is Cara's, and if Kahlan did not know better she might think that it was instinctive, out of habit. But there is not a single thing Cara does that is not deliberate, and the way she can't quite keep the edges of her mouth from curling up speaks louder than she ever could. 

It occurs to Kahlan that they may be a family. She pulls Cara's arm tighter around her.


	4. Chapter Four

Kahlan has explained--this is a day to be happy. Aydindril's school will give Sonia a fine education, teaching her of writing, history, literature, languages, magic, nature. She will make friends and become a true citizen of the Midlands. 

"She's five," says Cara. Kahlan can see how stiffly her shoulders are set, remembers how they've argued for weeks now. Cara wants to keep Sonia at home and teach her herself--how to shoot an arrow, track a rabbit across a forest, take control of a conversation. She has spent nearly every day of the past five years with Sonia from sunup until sundown and Kahlan knows that the thought of leaving her in the care of a stranger is creating a particular squeezing feeling in her chest because it's inside of her too. She sips her morning tea while Cara tries not to pace the floorboards in her office, forcing herself to sit uncomfortably next to Kahlan. 

"You'll just have to find something to occupy your time," says Kahlan. She smoothes her hand over Cara's hair, takes pity on her in her puzzlement. "It's natural to feel this way." 

"What way?" Cara demands. 

"Anxious," says Kahlan. She presses a light kiss to Cara's temple, affectionate but distracted by the day's work and her own worries. For a moment she thinks Cara might try to draw her focus to other matters; she has tried before, sliding bodily between Kahlan and her desk, straddling her lap and smirking down at her until Kahlan either gives in or removes her. If she is honest with herself, she allows the former far more often than she should. She understands by now what she feels for Cara, can name it and taste it and sense it thumping under her skin as surely as she knows she is the Mother Confessor. But Cara has never spoken of it, only hovers close to Kahlan, and when she winds her hands through Kahlan's hair, it is the best kind of reassurance. 

"I'm not anxious," says Cara, standing once again. 

"Don't let Sonia know you're anxious." 

Cara's mouth works silently, but they are interrupted by Sonia herself, already dressed for school, hair neatly combed and face freshly scrubbed, no doubt the handiwork of Roseline's doting youngest daughter. Sonia executes her usual running jump and lands solidly in Cara's arms, though she is already quite large for such an indulgence. "Good morning daddy," she says. 

"Good morning," says Cara, accepting Sonia's kiss on the cheek with a smile. 

"Are you taking me to school?" Sonia asks. 

Cara's discomfort is limited to a slight widening of the eyes. "Yes. But after breakfast." 

Roseline comes in then, her tray filled with fruit, fresh bread, a little cold meat from last night's dinner, a pitcher of juice, and a tureen of porridge. She pulls a pastry from under a napkin and sets it in front of Sonia. "A special treat for a special day, my darling," she says. 

Sonia's eyes widen at the pastry, oozing strawberry jam. "A tart!" she says. Before she can grab it with both hands, Kahlan clears her throat. Sonia's hands return to her lap, although she fidgets in her seat. "Thank you, Roseline." 

Roseline beams at her. "Of course, dear." 

Cara looks at Roseline expectantly, then at her empty plate; Roseline scoffs and leaves. She and Cara have never warmed to each other, existing in a state of mutual disregard despite Kahlan's attempts to mediate. Neither of them knows what Kahlan sees in the other; Cara is a ruffian and a brigand and a _Mord'Sith_ and Roseline is a henpecking, interfering busybody. Kahlan sometimes thinks the truest test of her diplomacy will be making peace between the two. 

Sonia devours her tart eagerly, pausing only when Cara places several apple slices on her plate. It is too soon before she is done and Cara is wiping excess food from her hands and face and she is pressing a still-sticky kiss to Kahlan's cheek. 

"Remember to mind your teacher," says Kahlan. "And try to make some new friends today. I'll see you in the afternoon." 

"Okay," says Sonia. "I love you." She leaves, hand in hand with Cara, who glances over her shoulder one last time. Kahlan just raises her eyebrows imploringly, then returns to her paperwork. There are city assessments, council requests, and worst of all, a drawing Sonia has somehow managed to shuffle in with the neverending flow of bureaucracy. On a vividly green field is a bulging brown horse, no doubt Stormy, and two stick figures, one with a yellow scribble on its head and the other with a brown scribble. She bites down on her lip and sets the picture aside, counting the minutes until Sonia is hers again. 

* 

Cara resurfaces before lunch, hands brushing the hilts of the daggers she now wears instead of her agiels, which are safely locked where Sonia cannot reach them. She almost looks as though she would rather be in her leather, instead of her simple woven shirt and breeches. She always tries to revert to habit when she is nervous, and that makes Kahlan nervous in turn. Cara and old habits do not mesh well together, and besides which, Kahlan prefers her slightly rumpled linen and well-worn breeches, the supple leather worn and faded from years of tramping through the forests with Sonia. 

"I should go check on Sonia," she says, standing in the doorway of Kahlan's office. 

Kahlan, who has just spent hours listening to disputes both petty and legitimate, simply wants a cup of tea and a few uninterrupted minutes to let her mind wander. She bites back a sigh, a crucial skill for any confessor. "Don't do that," she says. 

"She might be nervous. She's not used to being away from us for so long," says Cara. 

"Cara..." 

"I'm going for a ride," says Cara, leaving as quickly as she arrived. 

She returns again nearly an hour later, windblown and sun-flushed, just in time for Kahlan to finish eating. Kahlan couldn't help taking her meal at the window, watching from above as Cara took out a fast stallion and melted into the horizon, then galloped recklessly back into the city. Now Cara stalks in, no less tense, though there is something of the horse's gait still rolling through her hips. 

"Roseline made venison pasties," says Kahlan, pushing a plate across the table. She does not look up from the stack of parchment next to her own place setting. 

Cara eyes the food. "She knows I like venison pasties. Why would she--" 

"She has six children, Cara," says Kahlan. Now she does look up, pointedly. 

"I'm not hungry," says Cara, though she ate sparsely at breakfast and Kahlan knows her appetites after a horse ride. She touches her dagger hilts, fingertips resting lightly on the handles, and Kahlan knows she is wishing for the comfort of pain. "But tell her...thank you." 

"Sonia's lessons are over in a few hours," says Kahlan. 

"I'll find something to do until then," says Cara. Kahlan thinks it is the most ominous thing she has heard all day. 

But the rest of the afternoon is peaceful, and Cara returns with Sonia riding on her back, an indulgent treat for both of them. Sonia is excitedly babbling about her lessons, showing her ink-smudged hands to Cara and accidentally wiping them on Cara's neck. Cara lets her get down and she runs to Kahlan, throwing a hug around her legs. 

"Hello, sweetheart," says Kahlan, returning the hug rather more tightly than she should. "How was it?" 

Sonia climbs into her lap and begins speaking very quickly; Kahlan catches every third word, but she gathers that her teacher is very interesting, there are many things Sonia wants to play with in the classroom, and she found another tart in her lunch from Roseline. She almost expects Cara to call Roseline in at that very second, but Cara is simply relaxing in her chair, listening attentively. 

"And tomorrow we're going to learn how Aydindril was built," Sonia finishes, sounding satisfied. Out of words now, she sinks against Kahlan, head resting on Kahlan's chest. Kahlan clears strands of hair from her face and rubs her arm. She is not prepared for the relief flooding her body, how much she missed being able to call for Sonia at any minute and find her with one of Roseline's daughters, or playing with Cara. She inhales Sonia's familiar smell, trying to draw it in deeply enough to last her through the next day. 

For her part, Cara seems unconcerned. She asks Sonia if she thinks she will enjoy every day of school like this and encourages her to ask questions of her teacher. Kahlan cannot understand her calm, compared to this morning. She lies awake for nearly an hour that night, watching Cara sleep deeply and well. 

* 

The next morning Cara is up first, bursting with energy and apparent good cheer. She does not fret over Sonia, nor does she bait Roseline at breakfast. In fact she seems preoccupied, eyes trailing down to the table when she is not listening to Sonia plan out her day in great detail. Kahlan tries to accept that perhaps Cara has simply made her peace with the latest change in their routine, but cannot fathom such a thing. Cara does not let go of the day's worries or simply set aside frustration, though she has mellowed somewhat during her years at Aydindril. 

Kahlan almost asks Alma, Roseline's youngest, to take Sonia to her lessons so that she might speak with Cara privately. But Sonia's hand is already in Cara's, her other clutching the new quill that Cara whittled for her last night. Cara leads her around the table so she can give Kahlan a kiss on the cheek, this one smelling of strawberries, and then they are gone. 

Kahlan expects Cara to return in a state of dejection, perhaps even resignation now that she no longer has to put on a brave face for Sonia, but she does not return at all. The remnants of her breakfast go cold and Roseline tuts when she clears the table. 

"Finch," says Kahlan. He appears promptly, as he always does. 

"Yes, Mother Confessor?" 

She hesitates, on the verge of asking him to follow Cara. She does not like to use her staff for personal issues; they are in the service of Aydindril but they are not servants. "What's first this morning?" she asks instead. 

But nigh an hour later she is calling for Finch again, and if he is surprised to hear her inquire after Cara's whereabouts, he shows no sign. "Of course, Mother Confessor," he says with perfect equanimity. It is not long before he reports back to her: Cara is in the barracks yard, down on the palace grounds. Though he was to remain unobtrusive, Cara spotted him anyway, and she sends word by Finch that she is observing the guards' training and that she has the permission of their commanding officer, though she does not need it. 

Finch's strained expression upon delivery is enough to send Kahlan down to the barracks as soon as she can get away from her duties. She hears Cara long before she sees her, the staccato thwack of wood telling her someone is striking a multitude of blows in quick succession. Sure enough, she emerges into the practice yard to find Cara pummeling a young guard, her wooden practice daggers against his drawn sword. He is in a heavy gambeson; she is in her shirtsleeves, dancing surefooted around him, hardly a contest at all. She shoves him to the ground and stands in the center of the yard, victorious but disapproving. Then she motions to the next guard, one of at least a dozen watching from the sidelines. He approaches her carefully, but when he shifts his feet to strike, he telegraphs his every move and it is a moment's work for Cara to step neatly inside his guard, one dagger blocking his overhand blow, the blade of the other at his neck. She stares him down until he retreats back to his comrades, head hanging. 

"Cara," says Kahlan, almost a bark, and all heads turn towards her. The guards are immediately deferent, bowing in the presence of the Mother Confessor. 

"I'll be back," says Cara, eyes scanning the group before she sidles over to Kahlan, flipping a dagger in one hand. She looks cocksure, full of confidence. She has never quite stopped being Mord'Sith. 

"What are you doing?" Kahlan asks, voice low. 

Cara frowns. "The city guards aren't being trained properly. They're slow and sloppy." 

"That is Captain Rothnot's responsibility," says Kahlan, even though she has thought for months now that he is not the quiet, competent professional his predecessor was. 

"The guard is here to keep you safe, which is my responsibility," says Cara, suddenly fierce, and Kahlan feels warm under the strength of her regard in spite of herself. 

"You can't pick a fight with the guard every day just because you miss Sonia," Kahlan insists. 

Cara draws up, the look on her face telling Kahlan she knows Kahlan is right and will never admit it. "This is about Sonia's safety too," she says. 

Kahlan could press the issue, could wheedle a concession and an apology for the guards from Cara. She knows if she pushes out her lower lip the least bit and drifts close enough, she can ask Cara for almost anything and receive it. But she thinks again of Rothnot, of the ease with which Cara defeated the guards. Their brothers stand outside of Sonia's lesson room. "Try not to hurt anyone," she says at last. "And discuss it with me before you yell at Rothnot." 

Cara breaks into one of her almost-smiles, satisfaction settling smoothly in the curve of her mouth. "Of course," she says. She steps into Kahlan's personal space, as cleanly and swiftly as she closed with the guard. Her voice is a low purr. "Send Roseline away at lunch. We'll have much to discuss." 

Kahlan swallows. "She'll wonder." 

"Let her." Cara whirls away, marches back to the center of the yard. She points at the burliest of the lot with the tip of one dagger. "You." 

Kahlan leaves the yard behind, not bothering to watch. She knows how hungry Cara gets after a fight. 

* 

She is expecting Cara when she barges into Kahlan's office hours later. Roseline is away, and they are alone. Kahlan has no time for words of greeting; Cara kicks the door shut behind her, stalks up to Kahlan with wild eyes, and yanks her out of her chair to pull her flush against Cara's body. Her hands curl up around Kahlan's neck, tugging her head down for a heated kiss that Kahlan is sure will leave her mouth bruised. She finds she does not care. 

Just when she thinks Cara cannot possibly deepen their kiss, when she is lightheaded with arousal and can barely stand to leave Cara's mouth for a breath, she feels Cara hiking up the hem of her dress and lifting her onto the table. Cara's knife belt drops to the floor and she steps between Kahlan's legs. Kahlan squeezes Cara's waist with her thighs, hands roaming over her back, pulling her shirt out of its tuck. Cara's hand tangles in her hair at the scalp. She pulls, just hard enough to expose the line of Kahlan's throat. Kahlan moans to feel Cara's mouth at her pulse point, teeth biting almost delicately. Her other hand is sliding up Kahlan's leg, gripping her thigh, disappearing under her dress. 

"Kahlan," says Cara, right into her ear. 

The sound of her own name, rough and needful, leaves Kahlan wet in an instant. Cara's hand pushes past her underthings, fingers pressing into her hard and fast. Kahlan has to grip the table's edge to keep herself balanced, to ground herself before her heart pounds free of her chest. Cara pushes another finger inside of her and Kahlan bites down on a moan lest all of Aydindril hear her. Still, she cannot help but pant, feeling Cara flex her hand, hearing her murmur about how long she's thought of nothing but taking Kahlan, and she shudders apart, sliding bonelessly into Cara's arms. 

Her head falls onto Cara's shoulder and a hand strokes her hair; the other is still buried inside of her, sending residual twitches of pleasure jolting through her body. When she speaks, her voice is scratchy from being trapped in the back of her throat so long. "We should've sent Sonia to school sooner." 

* 

Violence inevitably enters their lives on a regular basis. Though the rule of law has been re-established in the Midlands, there are always people willing to challenge Kahlan's authority for greed, for power, for misguided notions of their own justice. Cara has ridden out with the city milita in her fair share of skirmishes, and Kahlan has found it necessary to defend herself several times outside of the safety of Aydindril's walls. 

But within Aydindril, Kahlan expects peace to reign, and it is a sore disappointment to her when Sonia's teacher requests her presence. Sonia has been in a fight, and has won quite handily. The boy she pummeled has a black eye and a bloody nose on top of his wounded pride, for he is two years older and nearly a hand's span taller. Cara swaggers all the way to the lesson room. 

When they arrive, Eleanor, Sonia's teacher, is writing at her desk. Sonia is in one corner of the room and the boy is in the other. Sonia looks up at the sound of her parents entering, at first eager, then abashed. Cara moves towards her, but Kahlan tugs her back to the desk, where Eleanor stands and curtsies. "Mother Confessor," she says. 

Kahlan bows her head respectfully; Eleanor is a matriarch of sorts, having seen three generations of children come and go through her classroom. She has always been unimpressed by magical gifts, her only concern is making sure every child under her care can recite history, write clearly, and make tallies without counting on their fingers. 

"What happened?" Kahlan asks. 

Eleanor raises her voice slightly, the better to be heard by everyone in the room, especially those who have been separated into corners. "Some of our students forgot that words are often more powerful than fists." 

Kahlan nudges Cara's foot with her own, knowing without looking that she is currently a study in skepticism. "What was the cause?" she asks. 

Eleanor beckons to her pupils, who now shuffle forward and stand in front of the adults, heads hanging. "Brendon," she says to the boy, "Explain to the Mother Confessor why Sonia hit you." 

His toes trace intricate patterns on the floor. "I t'k sumth..." he mumbles. 

"Clearly, now. Stand up straight and look at the Mother Confessor when you speak," says Eleanor, though her voice is not nearly as harsh as it could be. 

Brendon lifts his chin, but his eyes are still downcast. "I took something, Mother Confessor," he says. 

"Did it belong to you?" Kahlan asks gently. 

"No, Mother Confessor." 

Kahlan regards him, his hair tousled and clothes askew. Sonia is not prone to passions, but then Kahlan has never really seen her provoked. She has sheltered Sonia with her love and does not regret it for a moment. But her heart is stricken with a pang of realization--her daughter is growing up, becoming a person with her own desires and ideals, and some day she will not need her mother. There is no going back. Kahlan suddenly misses the summer cottage, its simplicity and isolation. "Why did you take it?" she asks. 

Brendon shrugs. 

Eleanor opens her mouth to chastise him, but Kahlan gestures subtly with her hand. "Why did you take it?" Kahlan repeats. 

"Wanted it," says Brendon, and next to him Sonia bristles. 

"Where is your mother?" asks Kahlan. 

Brendon's chin drops again. "Don't have one." 

"He's an orphan," Eleanor says. "Parents died in the Battle of Bersheb." 

Kahlan bends down to touch his cheek, and he finally looks her in the eye. He is crying, and ashamed of it. "You might be surprised what people are willing to give you, if only you ask," she says. "Have you apologized?" 

"Yes'm," he says, lip trembling. 

Kahlan looks at her daughter, her own lip stuck out in defiance. The tilt of her chin mirrors Cara's exactly and Kahlan would laugh but for the situation. "Sonia, have you apologized for hitting Brendon?" 

"Yes, mama," she says. 

"Did you also apologize to Miss Eleanor for disrupting her classroom?" 

"Yes." 

"Then let's go home," says Kahlan. She wants to hold her hand out to Sonia, but she is already drifting towards Cara, retreating to daddy in the face of her mother's disapproval. 

"I'll make sure he's seen to the orphanage," says Eleanor. 

So they walk home, through the palace halls to their quarters, Sonia's face screwed up with silent frustration. She knows she will receive a lecture at home in addition to the punishment she has just endured. Indeed, she automatically takes her seat in the little chair next to Kahlan's desk, the final destination for any and all misbehavior. Kahlan sits in her own chair; Cara stands behind Sonia, arms folded. 

"Sweetheart," Kahlan begins. "Hitting Brendon was not the way to get back what he took." 

"He wouldn't give it back," says Sonia. 

"Did you tell Miss Eleanor?" 

Unknowingly mimicking Cara, Sonia folds her arms. "He said he wasn't afraid of her and he stuck his tongue out at me and Jenny." Like a little dam bursting, she continues talking. "He takes our things! He always takes our things. He tried to take my pin." She touches the little garnet pin in her hair, a gift from her Uncle Zedd. 

Cara finally speaks. "He's much bigger than you. Did he hurt you?" 

Sonia looks over her shoulder. "No. I waited around the corner for him." 

Cara beams down at her; Kahlan is appalled. "Go to your room, Sonia," says Kahlan. "We'll discuss your punishment later." 

Sonia hops off her chair, but there is a bounce in her step Kahlan isn't sure she likes, put there by Cara's tacit approval. As soon as Sonia is out of earshot, Kahlan utters Cara's name. "You shouldn't encourage her! What if she had seriously hurt Brendon?" 

"She didn't," says Cara. "And she stood up for herself. I don't see what's wrong with that." 

"Because she's going to start thinking she should always use violence to stand up for herself," Kahlan says. 

Cara makes a disbelieving gesture. "Sometimes the only solution for a troublemaker is to make sure they're too scared to make trouble again." 

"Not for Sonia," Kahlan says. "She needs to learn to ask for help. I don't want her to think she always has to take care of things herself." 

"Why not?" Cara demands. "Why shouldn't she learn to rely on herself?" There is something in her voice, something fearful and lost that Kahlan knows she would have missed years ago. But she hears it now as clearly as if spoken aloud, and she wonders that Cara was ever a closed book to her. Perhaps they have changed together. 

"Because she's not alone," says Kahlan. 

Cara looks away with a sniff, but her hands are open now, touching Kahlan's desk. 

"Now will you go explain to her that fighting her classmates is wrong?" Kahlan asks, and Cara heaves a world-weary sigh. It is the sigh she has always used to let Kahlan know she is going under protest--but she is going. 

* 

They return to Eleanor's classroom a week later. Sonia is in her corner and another boy is in the other, this one even older and bigger than Brendon. At least there is no blood this time, but he still looks like a chicken that has narrowly escaped plucking. 

Eleanor's mouth twitches, and Kahlan is sure she is very determined not to smile. "He was bullying some of the other boys in the class," she says. 

At home, Sonia is somehow remorseful and defiant at the same time, folding herself into her chair and looking directly at Kahlan. Cara has made herself absent. 

"Didn't daddy tell you fighting is wrong?" asks Kahlan, feeling as though she has lost some sense of connection with her daughter. 

"She told me it was wrong to hurt someone who is weaker than me," says Sonia. She concentrates as she remembers. "And she said don't hit a person in the face with a--a closed fist, because you'll hurt your hand. And she said that boys all have the same weak point. And--" 

"Okay," says Kahlan. 

Sonia frowns, as though something has just occurred to her. "Is daddy wrong?" she asks, sounding as though there is no concept more shocking. 

"No, sweetie, daddy's not wrong. Not quite, anyway. But I don't want to hear about you fighting any more," says Kahlan. "Do you promise me? Remember, a confessor must always keep her promises." 

Sonia takes a breath that seems about to emerge as a protest. But she concedes. "I promise." 

After dinner, which Sonia clears from the table as part of her punishment, Kahlan stops Cara at the door to their bedchamber. "Sonia told me all about your conversation last week," she says, her hand still resting on Cara's chest. 

Cara attempts to look innocent, a task she has never been particularly good at. 

"You and Sonia can both think about what you did wrongly tonight," says Kahlan. She shuts the door before Cara can utter a syllable in protest. 

* 

She is sitting at her desk, reading by candlelight and having one last cup of tea before bed, when she hears something at the window that overlooks her bed. She reaches for a dagger, wondering if she should call for Cara, but then the window swings open and Cara tumbles through the curtains, rolling and coming to her feet. The curtains billow behind her, floating lightly in the warm evening breezes. 

"Spirits!" says Kahlan, clutching her dagger, half-poised to throw. "Cara, what are you doing?" 

"You locked me out," says Cara, as though it should be evident to Kahlan. 

"Because you told Sonia it was all right to fight as long as the other person was stronger than her," says Kahlan. 

Cara's face indicates she still does not understand why Kahlan should be offended at the notion, and Kahlan wants to admit she has a point. But she cannot; she feels as though Cara has backed her into a corner with her contradictions, and now she cannot go back on her position. What they say and do affects Sonia deeply at this age, and though Kahlan is not naive, she hopes Sonia will never have to raise a hand in anger or desperation. 

Cara slowly closes distance between them, pushing Kahlan's dagger down. "She's too much like us. She'll fight whether we ask her to or not." 

That, too, is true, but Kahlan persists. "She's only five. She shouldn't be fighting." 

Cara disarms her, places the dagger carefully on her desk. "Everyone has to fight some time," she murmurs, standing close now, so close they are breathing against each other. 

"I don't want Sonia to grow up thinking that way," says Kahlan, watching Cara's face. 

"It's too late. She's seen us defend ourselves before." Cara toys with the ends of Kahlan's hair, fingers barely brushing Kahlan's chest. 

"That doesn't excuse you from telling Sonia it's okay to fight when I asked you to do the exact opposite of that," says Kahlan, little flutters of excitement rippling along her skin in spite of herself. Cara has always been able to do this, turn Kahlan's anger aside in order to flame other desires. 

"I told her the truth," says Cara. She inhales deeply, pupils widening as her nostrils flare. She lets Kahlan see the desire flushing her cheeks, lets her hands drift around Kahlan's waist. 

"We can't contradict each other," Kahlan insists. She lifts her chin as Cara noses along her jawline, allows Cara to pull her in until their hips connect. 

"We can when I'm right," Cara murmurs, and Kahlan suddenly remembers that she is angry. She finds Cara's wrists and it is a moment's work to jerk them free, then yank them behind Cara's back. 

"Not tonight," says Kahlan. 

"Of course," says Cara, even as her hips roll into Kahlan's. 

"Cara," says Kahlan, warning clear in her voice. 

Cara's eyes are subservient, even if her body is defiant. She looks up at Kahlan through her lashes. "Yes...Mother Confessor?" 

It is all Kahlan needs to hear. She keeps her grip on Cara, muscles her back to the bed until her legs hit the edge and she tumbles to the mattress. Kahlan mounts her, pushing her down, pinning her by the hips and the shoulders, knees neatly trapping her wrists. Cara bucks underneath her, but it is only cursory resistance. 

With one hand planted on Cara's chest, Kahlan begins to unlace her dress, knowing Cara will want to touch and that the frustration will drive her to a near frenzy. Already there is flush to her skin and a harshness to her breathing. "This is not a discussion," she says, slowly pulling her strings through their eyelets, so slowly it could take minutes to reveal her corset. Cara's hands are twitching. "Don't contradict me to Sonia without discussing it with me first. Do you understand?" Kahlan pauses, fingers smoothing idly along the top seam of her dress. 

Cara looks as though she might protest, as though she might choose her pride over her desire. Kahlan shifts just enough to let the left shoulder of her dress slip loose, revealing lightly freckled skin. "I understand," Cara says, and Kahlan hides a victorious smile. She has Cara at her mercy; there is no point in being smug. The rest of her dress pools around her waist and she leans over Cara, hair falling around them in thick waves. 

Later, Cara lies with her head pillowed on Kahlan's thigh. Kahlan is drowsing, slumped against the headboard. When Cara speaks, her voice is nothing but a soothing background noise. "I got in here very easily," she says. 

"Hm," Kahlan says, to let Cara know she has heard, even though her mind is not processing the words completely. 

"The security around our quarters is deplorable." 

"Hm." 

"I'm going to fire Rothnot tomorrow." 

Kahlan's eyes fly open, just as Cara closes hers and falls asleep. 

* 

On the occasion of Sonia' sixth birthday, she is in disgrace, having been discovered sitting on a boy in her class after he cheated at a game of guards and banelings. She is forbidden from seeing friends, from leaving her quarters in the palace, and from riding with Cara, who thinks Sonia showed great presence of mind by using a blanket as an impromptu net to trap her target. She is not allowed to say as much to Sonia, though Kahlan has found the two of them going over a book of famous battles together. 

Kahlan means to mention these things to Richard in a letter, but then tensions flare over hunting grounds in a nearby province and her letter goes unfinished. Richard arrives for Sonia's birthday with a sumptuous tribute from the people of D'Hara--and one dappled cream-and-grey pony for Sonia. 

Fortunately, Sonia is not allowed to attend the welcoming ceremony, and so Kahlan is able to draw Richard aside and explain to him that ponies wearing dyed-blue bridles with silver bells and fluttering ribbons plaited into their manes and tails quite take the sting out of punishments. Cara says nothing during this conversation, instead examining the pony and making noises of approval. 

Richard's shoulders slump a little; even under the rich blue robes befitting his station, he still looks like the boy Kahlan met in the woods of Westland so many years ago. He has always loved spoiling Sonia and Kahlan has always loved watching him do it. 

Sonia is happy to see her Uncle Richard at any rate, and he keeps a straight face when she asks if he has brought her a gift. "Some books," he says, and Kahlan almost thinks Sonia will see through him, as befits her heritage and training. But her disappointment clouds her observations, and she imitates Richard's slump. 

"Explain to Uncle Richard why you weren't able to greet him," says Kahlan. 

Sonia looks down at her lap. "I was fighting," she says. 

Richard pretends confusion. "Fighting? Why?" 

"He was cheating," says Sonia. 

"You shouldn't hit people," Richard says gently. He opens his arm and bounces a leg invitingly; Sonia willingly climbs into his arms. 

"You and mommy and daddy hit people," Sonia points out, an argument Kahlan and Cara have heard too many times to count by now. 

"We're grown-ups," says Richard. "And we can choose to fight to protect other people. When you're a grown-up, that's a choice you'll make for yourself. But children aren't supposed to fight. They're supposed to ask grown-ups for help." 

Though Cara and Kahlan have both covered this ground already, Sonia thinks a minute, then says, "Okay." 

Kahlan almost gapes. By some twist of child logic, Sonia has decided to stop arguing. Kahlan has never felt so relieved and so useless at the same time. 

"In that case," Richard says cheerfully, "Let's go see what I really brought for your birthday." 

"Richard--" Kahlan begins, but it is too late. Richard has hoisted Sonia onto his shoulders and carted her away, her giggling floating down the hallway. 

Kahlan looks to Cara now, who returns her consternation with a smirk. She would've known Cara and Richard would be on the same side. "It could be worse," Cara says. "He could have brought her a puppy." 

Just like that Kahlan feels better, smiling and then laughing. The relief to her body is palpable as weeks of stress melt away. Sonia is only six, and will no doubt be causing far worse trouble in the years to come, for reasons half as well-defined. 

Cara beams at her in her inimitable way, something sly turning the glint in her eyes from simple joy to mischief. She has laugh lines there now, and Kahlan suddenly feels as though she could not possibly be happier. The day seems brighter, the sounds of the castle more lively. Kahlan holds out her hand and Cara takes it. "I guess you're going riding with Sonia today," she says. "Is there a saddle she can use?" 

"I already had one made," says Cara. 

Kahlan does gape now, eyes widening in accusation. "You knew," she says. "You knew Richard was going to bring her a pony." 

Cara offers a cocky smile, daring Kahlan to do something about it. 

They are too old for games, and the dignity of their positions precludes foolishness. But it is a lovely spring day and the scent of fresh flowers and hay and baking bread is wafting through an open window, carried by a warm country breeze that has set all the flags in the city to snapping. "I'm going to change," says Kahlan. "I'll meet you in the stables. Tell Corbin to saddle my horse." 

"I'll take care of it," says Cara, her tone implying much beyond the simple task of readying a horse. She leans close to Kahlan, the way she does when she wants to murmur something inappropriate. "Wear the pants I like," she says. She struts away, giving Kahlan a good show. 

Kahlan thinks that later, she may regret giving in and ending Sonia's punishment early. For now, watching Cara leave with her hips swinging, it is entirely worth it.


	5. Chapter Five

There has always been plenty to eat in Aydindril. In a city of its size, there are farmers and ranchers and butchers and millers and any number of others to provide food for the people, and more than enough money in the keep's coffers to ensure that everyone is paid fairly and the palace fed. Despite all of this, Cara has never been able to keep away from the hunt. She has always made a point of it, venturing out into the forest every week and returning with fresh game for the supper table - venison, if it has been a good day, rabbit if it has not.

For years, Roseline sniffed at the offerings, allowing Cara to prepare them in her kitchen but refusing to build them into the meals she cooked for Kahlan and Sonia. She has mellowed with time, however, just as Cara's pride has softened, and now her venison stew is the pride of Aydindril.

Sonia has always watched Cara prepare for the hunt, fascinated by the laces on her daddy's boots, the curve of the long hunter's knife she slides into her belt, beside her daggers. When she was younger, she used to play with the fletching of the arrows in Cara's quiver, smoothing the feathers down just so, arranging them by color from mottled brown to white. When she is seven, she sits next to Cara as she dresses. She is as solemn as a seven-year-old can look, hands flat in her lap, using all of the manners Kahlan has ever taught her, when she asks if she can come along.

Kahlan has never seen Cara's smile look quite so bright. 

* 

Sonia returns from the hunt in an absolute state, cheeks tear-stained and streaked with mud. She is not holding Cara's hand, and Cara's jaw is tight with frustration as she follows Sonia into Kahlan's quarters, carrying her sweater and the wooden practice sword she strapped to her waist in her excitement, hours before. The look in her eyes says that it is Kahlan's task to deal with Sonia, for the time being. 

Kahlan nods without hesitation, kneeling to smooth Sonia's hair against her forehead, kissing at her tears until she is calm enough to get cleaned up. 

Cara disappears, but Kahlan knows that if she were to look, she would find her down in the practice yards. She does not envy the guards that Cara catches idle, as she works out her frustration. 

* 

Supper is a subdued affair. Cara returns from the yard, obviously bone-weary but still frowning. Kahlan has managed to wash Sonia's face and hands, and change her into a clean dress, but Sonia has steadfastly refused all of Kahlan's questions about the hunt. Her stubborn silence reminds Kahlan of Cara, and she wonders how on earth she will manage, when Sonia begins to become a woman. 

Roseline brings supper - fresh venison and new potatoes, with rolls warm from the fire. It smells delicious; Kahlan can hardly restrain herself from picking up her knife and fork, waiting impatiently until Roseline has set the table and left. 

She begins to eat, when there is a clatter and a sigh from her side. "I can't eat this, " Sonia says. Her arms are crossed, and she looks imperious and utterly disgusted. 

Kahlan is shocked. Sonia has always been opinionated; she would not be her parents' daughter if she were not. But Kahlan and Cara have been careful to raise her to be polite, and gracious of the work of others. Across the table, Cara's knuckles are white around her fork, and Kahlan begins to suspect that this has more to do with the incident that neither of them will speak about than with the quality of the meal. 

"Why not, sweetheart?" she asks, as evenly as she can. 

"It's deer. _Dead_ deer," Sonia says, as if this should be a revelation to Kahlan. Kahlan has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, suddenly understanding everything. "Daddy _killed_ it." 

Cara looks absolutely livid, clutching her fork like it's an agiel. Kahlan can see her fighting for her calm, closing her eyes and trying to breathe. She has never, ever raised her voice in front of Sonia, and Kahlan cannot imagine that she will begin now. 

With a furious sigh, Cara sets down her cutlery, leaving the room with swift steps. Kahlan's heart goes out to her, but she does not follow. 

She sets her fork down and turns to Sonia, already thinking of the way she will need to apologize to Roseline for hardly touching what she is sure would have been a lovely meal. "Is that what all this is about?" 

Suddenly Sonia is in tears all over again, running to Kahlan and climbing into her lap as though she is a baby, letting Kahlan rock her back and forth. Kahlan presses a kiss to Sonia's temple, holding her close. This, she knows, is something that Sonia and Cara will have to fix with each other--their stubborness means that it will not come easily.

She wishes there was more help that she could give.

* 

When Cara returns late that night, long after Kahlan has dried Sonia's tears and put her to bed, she smells like sweat and horses. Her movements are stiff and weary as she sits on the bench at the foot of the bed, working at her boots with clumsy fingers, and Kahlan knows she has probably ridden to the next province and back, in her frustration. 

Kahlan feels nothing but peace as she kneels in front of Cara, batting her hands away to ease the laces free herself. Cara sighs, already dreading the conversation that they both know is coming. "I spoke to Sonia, after dinner." 

"Thank you." 

Kahlan is not prepared for the defeat in Cara's voice. When she looks up, the helplessness she sees in Cara's face is a surprise. 

"I don't think she had any idea what she was getting herself into when she asked to come today," Kahlan says, gently. One of Cara's boots is undone, and Kahlan moves to the other with calm hands. "Try not to be angry with her." 

"I can't not be angry, she's being childish." Cara kicks off her boots, savagely. She is careful not to hit Kahlan, but manages to send them clear across the room, to the opposite wall. 

"She's _seven_." 

"It was a _deer_." Cara's tone is angry, almost petulant. 

She rises, moving across the room to pick up her boots and set them neatly by the door. There is something in the set of her shoulders that makes her seem smaller, almost afraid. It occurs to Kahlan that Cara and Sonia have never fought before, about anything, and that this must be a shock for the both of them. Daddy has never been wrong before, at least not in Sonia's eyes. 

"Cara," Kahlan says, taking a gamble. "Think back to when you were a child." 

Kahlan sits on the edge of the bed, watching as Cara looks genuinely thoughtful. Kahlan has never pried into Cara's childhood, always accepting what she was willing to recount and no more, but she knows that Cara must have been a little girl, once. Gradually, the concern ebbs from Cara's face, and she is herself again, calm and sure of herself. "All right," she says, a little abashed. 

Cara joins her on the edge of the bed, and Kahlan rests her hand on Cara's arm, feeling the heat of her skin beneath her shirt. "Talk to her again. At breakfast, tomorrow." 

Cara sighs, heavy and resigned. She looks uncertain, and Kahlan is nearly sure that she understands the reasons. "I don't know if I can. Without losing my temper." 

She speaks in a way that makes it clear--losing her temper in front of Sonia, let alone at her, is unacceptable. Kahlan's heart aches for her, and Sonia, and she finds herself wishing once again that she had a way to mend this, for both of them. "I'll be there," is all Kahlan can think to say. 

Cara leans to the side, resting her shoulder against Kahlan's. "All right," she says again, as though she plans to spend tonight working out how, exactly, she will keep her calm. 

Kahlan leans back. 

 

* 

Breakfast the next morning is a subdued affair. 

Kahlan knows that Cara was awake for most of the evening, unable to sleep. Sonia, in turn, is groggy and irritable when Kahlan goes in to wake her, easing her out of bed with more than a little fraying of her own patience. She wonders if either of them slept at all. 

They all come to the table in silence. The scones Rosaline brings are Sonia's favorite, studded with fresh berries and spread with melted butter, but she hardly picks at them. Cara does not speak, but she sips tea from her place at Sonia's side, and it is clear that she is working up the nerve to begin. 

"Eat up," Kahlan says. "You don't want to be hungry at school." She nudges Sonia's plate closer to her. 

Sonia takes a cursory bite of her scone, clearly thinking of other things. "Mama," she says, "Why does Daddy hunt?" 

Kahlan glances to Cara, who nods - although she has set her mug down, and is watching Sonia more than intently. "Well," Kahlan begins, trying to choose her words carefully. "Because it's something that she enjoys. And, because hunting can give us meat and furs to give to the tanners and cooks." 

Sonia considers this for a long moment, taking another bite of her scone before Kahlan can chide her again for not eating. "Do you hunt?" 

"Sometimes, yes." 

"But I thought Confessors weren't supposed to do any harm." 

Kahlan cannot help but be proud. She has been backed into a corner by her own daughter, but the sight of Sonia using her confessor training like this, to work through problems on her own, is more than enough reward. "Yes," she says, trying to hold back her smile. "But Cara didn't do only harm, did she? Remember, she gave the venison to Rosaline, and that will feed us and her family for many days." 

"But," Sonia begins, brow furrowed in concentration. "Didn't you say it was bad to hurt anything weaker than you?" 

Cara leans forward in her chair, setting her palms flat on the table. "Sonia," she says, as gently as she can manage. Sonia starts, as though she had forgotten that Cara was listening. "Think about hawks. What do you know about them." 

Sonia's frown deepens. Kahlan can see that she is trying to remember, but also thinking of the conversation, working out where Cara's questions might lead. For the first time, she realizes how intelligent their daughter really is. "Well, they're hunters." 

"Right," Cara says, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards in approval. "And what do they hunt?" 

"I don't know." 

"They hunt other animals, like mice." She looks to Kahlan, clearly trying to keep her tone even. Kahlan nods. "And rabbits." 

"Oh." 

"But we don't love them any less for it, because they need the meat to survive." Sonia nods, but in a wary sort of way. Cara pushes on. "People need meat to survive, too. That's why - it's all right. For people to hunt animals." 

The apology is heavy in her voice, and she looks hardly older than a child herself as she watches, hopefully, and Sonia's resolve begins to soften. "I still didn't like it." 

"That's alright." Cara says, and she cannot hold back a barely audible sigh of relief. "You don't have to, if you don't want to." 

There is nothing but yearning in Sonia's eyes, a longing to once again be aligned with daddy, and Kahlan cannot hide her own smile. Anyone would be able to see how much Sonia wants to like hunting, to be exactly like Cara in every way. "But I could, right? If I want?" 

Cara reaches across the table to take Sonia by the hand. "Of course." 

* 

It is not long after, that Kahlan begins to realize that Sonia is growing up--she is far closer to being a girl than a child, and soon she will be a woman and the last of the confessors, yet again. 

Kahlan will need to have more children. 

She does not voice her concerns until weeks later, as she and Cara settle in to bed. Cara is in the oversized shirt she borrowed from Aydindril's stores years ago--the one the seamstress keeps trying to turn into a dress, when she thinks Cara won't notice. Kahlan is down to her shift, resting her head against Cara's shoulder, not quite asleep but not fully awake. She is nervous. 

She has been for weeks, ever since she first caught Sonia helping Alma in the nursery, gallantly fetching toys and telling stories for the younger children, and saw those younger children as Sonia's own siblings. She wants to put this conversation off, very much. 

But this is the first time that Sonia has gone to bed without a fuss in nearly a fortnight, and Kahlan is more than aware of how little time they have together, these days. She takes a deep breath, to settle her own nerves, then says, "Cara." 

Cara _hmms_ from her side of the bed, rolling over to face Kahlan. 

"Can we talk?" 

Cara sits, and the concern on her face makes Kahlan feel nervous all over again. "What is it?" 

"I--you know that I take my duty as the Mother Confessor seriously. My duty to Aydindril is a part of who I am, especially after presiding here for so long." 

"I understand," Cara says, and her hand finds Kahlan's, a comfort that allows her to keep speaking. 

Kahlan cannot bear to watch Cara, too scared of what she might say. Instead, she keeps her gaze on their joined hands as she continues. "Part of my duty is to ensure that--that the line of Confessors is secure. If something were to happen to me and Dennee, there's only Sonia, and I can't--" 

"Kahlan," Cara says, gently. Her expression is something that Kahlan has never seen before. "I _understand_." 

Something in her tone seems defensive, almost hurt. Kahlan begins to worry that Cara is listening to a different conversation than the one Kahlan is having. It would not be the first time. "What do you mean?" she says, watching Cara's eyes, trying to read her as closely as she can. She is much better at it now than she once was. 

Cara's expression is a void, completely blank, and Kahlan knows that she is doing it on purpose. "If you need to take a lover, you have my blessing." 

Kahlan feels sick. "Cara, I--" 

"I know that I have a place with you," she says, pride and something like defiance in the set of her jaw. "It's all right." 

"Cara," Kahlan says, rising to her knees. She has learned, by now, that there are times when Cara responds best to words, and others when she responds only to actions. She moves until her knees rest on either side of Cara's hips, straddling her body. Her hands thread through Cara's hair, easing it out of its braid, and it is only then that Cara begins to relax. Kahlan rests her forehead against Cara's, waiting until she is calm under her hands before she speaks again. "I want to have another child with _you_." 

Cara blinks, slowly, and her hands find their way to Kahlan's hips. "How?" she says, as though her agreement was implied, long ago. 

Kahlan cannot keep the smile from her face. "I don't know," she admits. "I was thinking of asking Zedd, to see if he had any ideas. Surely if we did it once, we can do it again." 

Cara shifts her weight, rolling until Kahlan is on her back, beneath her. She leans down with a smile that is nothing but wicked, and Kahlan feels her heart flutter at the sight of it. "Surely." 

* 

They arrange to meet Zedd the next day, while Sonia is at school. They meet, on his insistence, at Ambrosio's. The very idea of asking this of Zedd in a public space makes Kahlan begin to blush, and when she shows Cara the message from Zedd's page, Cara smiles in genuine sympathy. 

They both know that Kahlan will be the one who leads this conversation. 

Zedd is early, as he always seems to be when lunch is at stake, comfortably ensconced at his favorite table with a flagon of wine and a leg of mutton. He sets down his fork only when Cara and Kahlan are at the table, ready to greet him. 

Zedd has always loved Kahlan like a daughter, and he rises to greet her like one, pulling her into a long, fierce hug without regard for her title. Cara, he greets with a nod, and the smile that she gives in answer is genuine. She has never liked to be hugged, and the ways that he has come to respect that make Kahlan's heart warm for the both of them. 

"So," he says, setting himself upon his meal once more. "To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your company?" 

He gestures to the table, indicating that they eat. Cara takes a plate, as eager for a good meal as always. Food is the farthest thing from Kahlan's mind, but she knows Zedd, so she takes a roll and a glass of wine, picking at them gently. "We've come to ask you about something. Related to magic." 

"Magic!" He laughs, pleased to be though of first in a keep filled with more wizards than anywhere else in the Midlands. "I think I may be able to be of some assistance. What is it, exactly, that you wish to ask?" 

Kahlan can feel herself beginning to blush. She hides in her wine glass, just for a moment, buying herself time to regain composure. "As you know, it is my duty to ensure the safety of the line of confessors," she begins, keeping to familiar territory. 

Zedd nods, somehow managing to look sage around a mouthful of mutton. 

"And with--the last time, with Sonia, was--" 

"Unexpected?" Zedd asks, trying to help her find the words. 

"Yes," Kahlan says. Beside her, she can see Cara smiling into her plate, and the way that she appears to be enjoying this only makes Kahlan feel worse. "But Cara and I, we would like to--" 

Kahlan looks up. She knows the words, but the idea of saying them fills her with shame embarrassment she knows she shouldn't have. She feels something brush against her skirts, and it takes her a moment to realize that it is Cara's hand, finding her knee under the table and resting there. It's enough reassurance for Kahlan to begin again. "We were wondering if you knew how it had happened. Because we'd like to have it happen again." 

She is glad, for once, of the dim lighting in Zedd's corner of the tavern. She knows, from the heat in her cheeks and the way Cara is smiling at her, supportive and a little bemused, that she is blushing bright pink. 

"Kahlan," he says, kindly, as he sets down his fork and reaches across the table for her hand. "What kind of wizard would I be, if something like Sonia happened right under my nose and I didn't at least look into it?" 

"So you can help us, then?" Kahlan says, hardly daring to hope. She wants this, another child with Cara, but they both know that if Zedd can't help them, she will have to take a lover. 

"Of course I can help you," he says, banging down on the table so hard that Kahlan can see a few patrons jump. "By the spirits, I've been wondering for years when you were going to get around to asking me about this." 

"Really?" 

Zedd squeezes her hand, smiling, and she knows that he would never mislead her about something as important as this. "Really." 

* 

Hardly a month has passed before they are ready, with Zedd's help, to try again. Zedd had assured them that the simplest way would be to imbue a space with the same powerful magic that brought them together the first time--and here, Kahlan had blushed--and that the simplest place to enchant would be outside of Aydindril, at the summer cottage. 

The task of explaining to Sonia that she will not be accompanying them--at least for a few days--falls to Cara, who disappears with Sonia and Stormy and the pony that Sonia insisted on naming Richard into the forest one afternoon. When they return, Sonia is bright-eyed and ecstatic over the prospect of a baby sister, wielding a child-sized bow and three clumsily-fletched arrows with blunted heads. Kahlan does not question the wisdom of giving weapons to a child of seven, not when she is their daughter, nor does she ask Cara what she has said. 

This, she knows, is a time for accepting Cara's decisions and thanking the spirits that Sonia will not fuss over a few days apart from her parents. 

The morning they are set to leave, Kahlan wakes early to small knees digging into her side and the end of a bow, sharp against her shoulder. She looks down, only mildly surprised to see Sonia curled against her side, the bow Cara has given her clutched tightly to her chest. It is a surprise, but not an unwelcome one--Sonia is, of course, far too old to be sleeping in her parents' bed, but Kahlan can already sense the way that she will miss being near her daughter, when she and Cara are gone. She presses a kiss to the top of Sonia's head, smiling as she stirs. 

"Good morning, mama," she says, halfway through a yawn. 

It is barely dawn, but already Kahlan knows that she will not get any more sleep. She shifts, sitting herself higher, careful not to wake Cara, asleep on her other side. "How did you get in here, sweetheart?" 

"Daddy let me," Sonia whispers, craning her neck to watch Cara over Kahlan's shoulder. 

"Well," Kahlan says, unable to keep the smile from her voice. "That was very nice of her." 

Sonia nods, clutching her bow more tightly to her chest, like a doll. The end nearly hits Kahlan's jaw. She brushes it out of the way with her free hand, earning Sonia's gaze once more. "Sonia," she says. "What's this?" 

"Daddy made it for me," she says, snuggling closer with a sigh that makes Kahlan wish she would stay small, like this, forever. 

"I know," Kahlan says, pressing another kiss to Sonia's forehead. "But you don't have to keep it with you all the time." 

"Okay," Sonia says, avoiding Kahlan's gaze with a look that Kahlan has only ever seen in Cara. 

As she would with Cara, Kahlan strokes her hair, waiting patiently. She knows that Sonia will tell her what she needs to learn, in time. Kahlan does not have very long to wait before Sonia looks up at her and asks, "Are you really going to have a baby?" 

"Yes," Kahlan says, allowing herself to smile. "I hope so." 

"Daddy said, that means I'm going to be a big sister." The look on Sonia's face is every inch Cara's, stoic and determined with an intensity that almost catches Kahlan off guard. 

"That's right," Kahlan says. "If that's alright with you." 

Sonia glances at her hands, fingering the string of her bow. "Big sisters are supposed to keep little sisters safe, right?" 

Kahlan nods, trying to focus on her daughter, instead of indulging in thoughts of Dennee. "Yes," she says. "That's one of the things they can do." 

"And teach them things? And play with them?" Sonia's eyes are wide, as though the thought of doing all these things is positively overwhelming, and Kahlan can only hold her closer. Behind her, Kahlan feels the sheets tug, as though Cara is stirring. 

"Yes, honey," Kahlan says, rocking Sonia back and forth, the string of her bow pressing against her cheek. "Where did you hear all this?" she asks, suspecting the answer. 

"Daddy," Sonia says against Kahlan's chest. Then, quickly, as though she's misspoken: "It's a secret." 

From behind her, Kahlan hears a short sigh, and knows that Cara is awake and trying to keep herself from making a sound. Kahlan appreciates the time. "Are you worried?" 

"No," Sonia says, stubbornly, and she wriggles away from Kahlan to clutch her bow in both hands . "I can do it. Daddy said I'm brave." 

Kahlan sighs, watching the way that Sonia sets her jaw. In the right light, the stave of her bow almost looks like an agiel. "I think daddy is very right," she says, and Sonia gives her a proud, satisfied smile. "Is there anything else you're worried about?" 

Sonia frowns, for a moment, and Kahlan can see that she is on the verge of asking about something. "I don't think so," she finally says. "Do you and daddy really have to go to the cottage without me?" 

Kahlan sighs, heart in her throat. She suddenly wants to relent, right then and there. But they have no way of knowing the effect Zedd's magic will have on children, and Kahlan is not eager to discover by trial and error. "Yes," she finally says. "But we'll be back before you know it." 

"Okay," Sonia says, pulling Kahlan into a hug, face buried against Kahlan's chest. 

There is a part of Kahlan that wants only to lie here, holding her daughter forever. But she knows there are things to be done, that morning will begin to arrive for the rest of Aydindril soon. "Now," she says after a long moment, pressing one final kiss to Sonia's hair. "It's time for you to be in your own bed. Daddy and I will find you before we leave." 

"Do you promise?" 

"Of course," Kahlan says, and Sonia trots away without another complaint, apparently satisfied. 

Behind her, she feels the mattress dip, and suddenly Cara's arm is around her waist, heavy and comforting. "Thank you," Cara says, voice rough with sleep. 

Kahlan finds Cara's hand, lacing their fingers together. The way that Cara squeezes, pressing their joined hands somewhere low on Kahlan's belly, makes her heart leap in her chest. She rolls over, wanting to see Cara's face, and Cara's arm follows her, wrapping itself against her spine. "You know," Kahlan says, rubbing Cara's side from ribs to hip. "Every day I see more of you in her." 

Cara looks down, trying to hide behind the hair that falls across her face. Her cheeks are pink, and Kahlan cannot help but smile. It is such a rare treat to see Cara like this, openly shy. "I like it," Kahlan says. 

Cara pulls Kahlan in for a kiss, slow and sweet and entirely chaste. "Thank you," Cara says again, and it means something else entirely. 

* 

They arrive at the summer house that afternoon, after a protracted goodbye with Sonia and many assurances from Roseline that she will be safe, that her daughters will look after her. There is a procession through the streets of Aydindril, as there must be when the Mother Confessor takes leave from her seat, but it feels almost crass when Kahlan is so acutely aware of the reason they are venturing to the cottage this time. She has felt Cara's eyes on her since breakfast, heated and wanting, and Kahlan would be a liar if she did not admit to the warm glow of anticipation she feels low in her belly, and the way it makes her notice the lines of Cara's body all the more. 

Zedd has been there already, to work his magic, and when Kahlan steps across the threshold she can feel it, pricking at the back of her neck. The glow of anticipation turns into a throb, as she sets down her things and wanders into the common room, remembering all the time she has spent here in years past. Behind her, she hears Cara gasp as she enters the house, and she knows that she is not alone in feeling the effects of Zedd's spell. 

It's a familiar feeling, in an odd way, and it makes her think back to that night in the cave, years ago. The way her skin had hummed with something that had seemed so foreign and dangerous, the way Cara's body had felt unfamiliar against her own. 

Now, the dark look in Cara's eyes feels like home, and they come together in a kiss that's practiced, comforting, Kahlan tugging at Cara's hair and Cara biting down on Kahlan's lips, each pulling the other closer. 

They break apart only when neither one can breathe, gasping for air. Kahlan can feel her heart thudding, and already there is slickness between her thighs, making her knees feel weak. She wants to be touched, and held, so badly that her entire body aches for it. Cara's breathing is harsh, and she holds Kahlan at arm's length for a moment, shutting her eyes. She is clearly fighting this, trying to keep control of herself, and Kahlan still has enough presence of mind to find it sweet. 

"Come on," Cara finally says, voice low and rough in a way that crawls up Kahlan's spine, heightening her desire all over again. She laces her fingers through Kahlan's, and walks them both toward the bedroom. 

The bed has been freshly made, no doubt by servants that Zedd brought with him before he performed his spells, the covers already turned down. It looks lovely, and ordinarily Kahlan would pause to slide between the sheets. But now, under the influence of powerful magic, it is all she can do to scramble backwards onto the bed, tugging at the stays to her corset. Cara is watching with naked hunger in her eyes, but she remains standing at the edge of the bed while she undresses, working at the laces of her breeches with trembling fingers. 

Kahlan finishes undressing long before Cara, and she allows herself a moment to appreciate the curve of Cara's hips, the swell of her breasts, the way the muscles play across her belly and back, twisting under her skin. She has softened with age, in the same ways that Kahlan has begun to soften, but the sight of her tugging her shirt off and kneeling on the bed, naked and strong, still makes Kahlan's heart flutter. 

She lowers herself onto the bed, on top of Kahlan, naked skin against skin. The slide of her body underneath Cara's, as they come together and begin to kiss, is enough to set Kahlan's pulse racing. She pulls at Cara, bucks her hips up, trying to bring her closer. 

But Cara is resisting, moving away from Kahlan's mouth to nip at her throat. Her hands and mouth are nothing but gentle sweetness, and as she slides her palms down to Kahlan's hips, her touch is almost tentative. Kahlan can feel her fighting the magic, shaking with the effort of it. She knows that she needs to ask why. But her body is ruling her reason right now, skin humming for Cara and nothing more, and it feels like a truly supreme effort for Kahlan to take a deep breath and brush Cara's hair away from her face. 

"Why are you fighting this?" she asks, watching Cara's face. She wants, desperately, to use her mouth to tear at Cara's lips, to use the hand tangled in Cara's hair to tug, the way that Kahlan knows she likes. But she keeps herself in check, just barely, and listens for Cara's words. 

Cara is watching her, shaking. She does not have an explanation, but Kahlan can see the emotion in her eyes and knows, immediately, all of Cara's reasons. It is unnecessary chivalry, but Kahlan appreciates the sweetness in it, all the same. 

"Because," is all Cara manages to say, breath coming in gasps as she traces a line from Kahlan's jaw to breasts to navel, raising goosebumps with her fingertip. 

Kahlan whimpers. "It's okay," she says, trying to put understanding into her voice. "Please." 

Cara holds back a moment longer, and then her mouth is rough against Kahlan's, kissing her until her teeth click against Kahlan's, minutes of longing and self-restraint making her all the more eager. The hand on Kahlan's belly is suddenly far less tentative, palming at her skin and sliding lower, finding the slickness between Kahlan's legs and sliding between them. Cara's fingers flick against the spot she knows by heart, drawing cries from Kahlan that she swallows, refusing to break the kiss. 

Her fingers slide into Kahlan, filling her, stroking her from the inside. Kahlan can hear herself, half-sobbing Cara's name. She bucks her hips, pulling Cara deeper, eager for more and more until she finishes, almost as suddenly as they began. She gasps against Cara's mouth, nearly beside herself with ecstasy, and she feels, rather than sees, Cara's smile. 

Cara does not move her hand, but she pulls her mouth away from Kahlan's. Her lips are kiss-swollen, almost bruised, and her eyes are dark with lust as she looks down at Kahlan. There is a hunger in her gaze, one that Kahlan knows intimately, and it makes her shiver. Her fingers, still buried in Kahlan's core, twitch ever so slightly. Kahlan shivers harder. 

"Kahlan," she says, awe in her voice. 

Kahlan is beyond speaking. It is all she can do to wrap her arms around Cara's shoulders, stroking her hair. Cara lowers her head to Kahlan's neck, kissing a path down to her breasts, as though she understands. 

Her mouth begins to move lower, then lower still, and Kahlan has hardly caught her breath before Cara's mouth has joined her hand, and she is kissing a path up Kahlan's thighs, pressing her tongue to exactly the right spot at her core. It is all Kahlan can do to tangle a hand in Cara's hair, pressing down on her head. Keeping her close, because all she can think about right now is how much she wants Cara to keep doing this, forever. 

Cara's fingers, high inside her, begin to stroke in time with her tongue, and Kahlan tumbles over the edge once, twice, until it is too much and she is pushing Cara away, begging her to stop. She feels exhausted, _sated_ despite the magic surrounding them, and when Cara pulls out of her it feels like a loss. 

There is still hunger in Cara's eyes as she rises, sitting back on her heels and watching Kahlan on the bed, exhausted and utterly ravished. But she allows Kahlan to take her by the hand, pulling her down. She allows Kahlan to curl against her side, wrapping her arm around Cara's waist and gasping, trying to regain her composure. She relishes the heat of Cara's skin, and the way that, with her head pressed to Cara's chest, she can hear Cara's heart thudding beneath her skin. 

As she catches her breath, she slides her hand down the length of Cara's belly, finding her core. 

Cara's thighs spread eagerly, and then it is her turn to shiver, humming her approval against the top of Kahlan's head. 

Somehow, hearing Cara's eagerness is all that Kahlan needs to regain her strength, and she rolls so that her knees are on either side of Cara's hips. Cara shifts, as if to move Kahlan away, and Kahlan takes her by the wrists, pinning her arms above her head. It is a gamble - Cara has never had much patience for submitting to anyone, especially not to Kahlan. 

"Please," Kahlan whispers. 

She leans down, breathing against Cara's mouth, not quite close enough to kiss her. Cara squirms in frustration, but Kahlan knows that she has already won. If Cara was determined to free herself, she would. 

"Cara," she says, pleading. 

It's all it takes for Cara to give in with a whimper, letting the tension go from her arms. Kahlan presses down against her, letting herself enjoy the feel of her bare breasts sliding against Cara's skin as she pulls her in for a kiss, as rough and demanding as anything Cara has given to her. 

They do not kiss for long, before Cara is rocking against her, bucking her hips up in frustration that Kahlan cannot ignore. With a smile, she makes her way down the length of Cara's body, savoring the way Cara clutches at her shoulders, gasping every time Kahlan touches her. When Kahlan's tongue dips into the wetness at Cara's center, she actually shouts, loud enough that Kahlan is sure the guards stationed across the meadow can hear her. 

Kahlan has always loved this, listening to Cara as she unravels, all of that eagerness and want reserved just for Kahlan. The sense of power she gets as Cara digs her nails into her shoulders, leaving deep scratches that Kahlan knows will show for days, rivals anything she has ever experienced as the Mother Confessor. 

When Cara comes undone, arching her back and tugging at Kahlan's hair, it is with Kahlan's name on her lips, loud and unashamed. Kahlan feels an answering tug in her heart, as she laps at Cara, pulling shudders from her until she is still. 

It is only when she is sure that Cara is sated that she makes her way back to the head of the bed, letting Cara pull her into a slow, lazy kiss. Kahlan's entire body feels slow, her muscles lax, and she sighs into the feeling as she settles next to Cara on the bed. 

She does not know if Zedd's magic is working, if this will lead to another child as they hope. Even if it does not, Kahlan is sure it will have been worth it. 

* 

It is three months, until Kahlan is sure. 

Zedd, of course, offered to check for her the week they returned from the summer cottage, using his magic. Kahlan refused, just as she refuses all the offers that came after, offers which she suspects have more to do with Cara's curious, hopeful looks than his own eagerness to help. 

Cara, for her part, is as patient as she can be. She does not say anything the first month, when her cycle begins and Kahlan's does not. 

The second month, when Sonia comes to them both at the dinner table and asks them exactly when she will be a big sister, Cara nods along with Kahlan's deferral and does not bring the subject up later, when they are alone. 

Later that evening, when her hand finds its way around Kahlan's waist to the spot low on her belly, the one Kahlan sometimes thinks might be starting to swell, Kahlan pretends not to notice. 

The third month, when she is sure of herself - when she has begun to feel ill in the mornings, and the outward curve of her belly is enough to fit in her palm, solid and real, she arranges for Sonia to dine with a friend. Cara stops short when she arrives for the evening meal to find Kahlan, alone, the table set for two. She is wary, but the corners of her mouth twitch up as she sits, betraying the hope in her heart. 

This time, Kahlan does not need to take her hand, to keep her from running. This time, Kahlan hardly needs to speak. Cara watches her sideways, a question in her eyes, and Kahlan cannot contain herself any longer. She smiles, letting out a breath she did not know she was holding. There is a sister for Sonia, a second daughter, and she will be just as much theirs as Sonia ever was. 

Cara opens her arms to her, tugging Kahlan by the hand until she rises from her chair and rests in Cara's lap, happy tears in her eyes. "You're sure?" Cara says, voice rough with emotion. 

"Yes," Kahlan whispers. 

Cara kisses her, hardly pressing with her lips, chaste and gentle. Kahlan tastes salt, feels the heat of Cara's skin against her mouth and the comforting softness of Cara's hair between her fingers. Her smile is so broad that she can feel her cheeks aching, and it does not feel like it is enough to express her joy. Cara's generous mouth is a mirror to Kahlan's heart and she murmers into Kahlan's shoulder, "You're very beautiful," and Kahlan knows it means much more.


End file.
